Throughout high school and university, I was always a bit of a laissez-faire student. Didn't pass that math test? Meh, there's always another--final mark be damned. Slept through my 8:30 AM class because I was up all night gaming? Wouldn't be the first time. I was that one cringe-worthy student that no one wanted to be paired up with for a project--unless, of course, it was one of the rare projects I was actually interested in doing.
I graduated high school and made a beeline for Université de Moncton in 2004, not really knowing what to expect. I stumbled through a few years of skipping classes, dropping out of classes and, occasionally, failing classes. It may not be a time I'm proud of, but it was an immensely important learning experience for me. I'm the type of person who, sometimes, has to learn the hard way.
In 2007, I finally finished my required English courses, minus one. Since I was an English major, this took all the fun out of university. Suddenly, I had to take a number of required courses that weren't at all related to English. This was my own fault. I didn't pace myself over the years, and I got all the fun courses out of the way early because of that. That fall, I failed a linguistics class, resulting in a panic attack--something I'd never really experienced before.
I went back to university in the winter, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I signed up for a full course load of five. Within the first few weeks, I had dropped two courses that gave me so much anxiety I couldn't stand to even attend class. One of them--oddly enough a drama class--had me breaking out in hives. Another class I took, a three-hour long ethics class with a lot of homework, forced us to read our answers out in front of the class. I left half-way through the class one day, tears rolling down my cheeks at the mere thought of it.
I also had enrolled in one English class, and it was one that I had failed in the past--the only English class I've ever failed, and my very last requirement for my major. When I got my midterm back and saw that, despite my best efforts, I had failed it, I lost myself. I handed the exam back and ran from the administration building to the arts building, right up to my mother's office. She saw the look on my face and I'm sure she must have known what was coming next. "I'm leaving university," I blurted between my sobs. "I can't do this anymore". She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded, and said "okay". I went to my doctor in the days that followed and asked him to write me a note so I could get out of university without suffering failures in all of my enrolled courses.
I didn't really know what I was going to do. Brad and I were living together at the time, and I hated our apartment. I would be going back home for the summer in a few short months, so I couldn't get a job. I visited my Nana in the hospital; I drew; I sewed; I wrote. When summer came, I went back home to work at the general store. I told people I was taking a break from university, and they advised me not to take too long a break. Some people told me I'd never go back. But my closest friends, my mom and dad, and Brad, all knew better. They were always supportive.
Brad and I moved to Moncton permanently in late summer, 2008. We got a new apartment--coincidentally on Alma Street--and got a cat. I spent the next five years working a few different jobs: waitressing at a Tex-Mex restaurant (I lasted four months), being a barista at a Second Cup kiosk in the mall (a year and nine months), and going from regular employee to assistant manager to store manager at DAVIDsTEA (three whole years).
While managing DAVIDsTEA, in winter of 2012, I found out that I could take the English course I had failed previously, and I decided to get it done. I went back and shocked myself by achieving an A overall in the course. I wasn't just pleased, I was ecstatic. I had overcome a hurdle that had been in my way for years. I wouldn't take another university course for a year and a half, but it was an event that put the option of going back to university back on my radar.
In the summer of 2013, I enrolled for an evening course for the coming fall. The course was with a prof I had in my second year and really liked. I started to realise that I was getting a little too close to the ten year mark. I was 27--inching ever closer to thirty--and wasn't really sure where my life was going. My job was taking up most of my time, and while I liked it, it wasn't what I wanted to be doing for the rest of my life. It was time to make a decision, and my choices were: 1. to spend the next few years taking one or two evening courses while continuing to work full time, 2. to let my credits expire and never finish my degree, or 3. to take a leave from my full-time job and go back to school. Option 3 ended up being the one I wanted the most, but after looking into it, I discovered that it wasn't an option for me at all: my workplace would only provide one month of study leave, but I really wanted to finish things off. If option 3 was really what I wanted, I would have to step down from my position, and drop to part-time. So, with that big risk in place, I did, and I went back to school full-time in January 2014.
Was it easy? Absolutely not. I worked so hard from January to April that there wasn't much in my life that wasn't school-related, except my part-time job. I re-took the ethics course that I had dropped five years before, and while it was still a stressful course, I found that I got far more out of it the second time around than I had the first time. When the winter semester was done, I felt so much relief. That was the last time I would ever have to take a full-time semester. I had two intersession courses lined up--one spring and one summer--but they would be nothing compared to the insanity the winter brought.
Near the end of the winter semester, I attended the Annual Atlantic Undergraduate English Conference--something I probably wouldn't have even considered doing when I was in university before. I was more of a shut-in during my previous years, and I wouldn't even spend time with people on campus. This semester, I was hanging out in the English Department's Reading Room, making friends and studying with others.
In May, during my spring course, I discovered I was pregnant. At first, I was terrified! What if I didn't get my degree finished on time? Then, after calculating my due date, I discovered that the timing was actually perfect. My exams for my two fall courses would end in December, and the baby is due in January. This fall, I am taking my two final classes while pregnant, and so far it's not a whole lot different.
Do I recommend breaks for everyone? Absolutely not. Some people really don't go back--which is fine, too, as long as that's what you want. I'll always be glad for that five years away from university, though, and I will never regret it. I learned so much during that time, and it prepared me for going back. In a big way, I actually feel that those five years away from university were for me to figure out why I wanted to finish my degree, and to give me the skills I needed to complete it. When February 2015 arrives, I will have a baby in one hand, and a completed bachelor's degree in the other. I always have done things a little differently, so I guess with university I have just taken a bit of a detour on the way. My life story isn't linear, but I like it that way.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Crystal Palace closed yesterday.
Crystal Palace was a magical indoor amusement park that I was lucky enough to be able to enjoy while growing up. It was a place I went to with family and young friends: a place for March Breaks and birthday parties. I had my first actual date with a boy in grade 6 at Crystal Palace, too--we went on a bunch of rides, won a purple plush bulldog and saw a movie together, back in the days that the theatre and park were connected. The connection was only removed in the last few years, and I remember experiencing a wave of nostalgia every time I would leave the movie theatre, met by the sounds of excited children screaming on the roller coaster. I'll always have fond memories of getting my face painted and riding on the giant swing set to be propelled through the air across the park. I felt like I was flying. And, of course, I'll always remember challenging friends to the Laser Runner laser tag game.
Animaritime, a convention I've been staffing at off and on since 2008, took place in the convention centre in Crystal Palace for their 2007 event. That year, I played mini-golf while dressed like a comic book character, made some incredible friends, and got to experience the ridiculous fun of being at a convention in an indoor amusement park. It was a perfect location, but sadly the convention centre wasn't big enough to house the growing convention.
Recently, my husband Brad and I stopped in at Chapters to browse around. We decided we'd take a walk through Crystal Palace. We have a little one on the way, after all, and we talked about how much we were looking forward to bringing the child there when he or she is old enough. A few weeks later, we heard the sad news that Crystal Palace would be closing at the end of the day on September 1st, so this was never going to happen. We decided we would bring the baby there anyway--so to speak--before the place closed, for one last night of fun and fond memories.
So, the night of Friday, August 29th, we went. We spent the evening playing games and trying to win a prize for the little one, since I couldn't go on any rides. We had discovered the day before that we are to have a little girl, and we were going to try and win her a stuffed dragon. At one point in the night, as we took a break between games, a young girl came up to us and handed us several tickets, saying "you can have these". I looked at her parents, who were with her, and asked if she was sure she wouldn't rather have them for herself. She insisted, and her mother smiled at me and said "we know you're trying to win something for your baby". Brad and I accepted the tickets gratefully, and noticed that they included a slip for over 300 tickets. I tried keep myself together as I put the slip with our other winnings, and the two of us took a break to grab a snack at Pretzelmaker. As we sat with our snack, we watched a a young boy and his father riding the Jumpin' Star together. The look of joy on the little boy's face was unmistakable. A lot of people are going to miss this place, I thought.
We went to cash in our tickets at the end of the night, and the man behind the counter informed us that they would be honouring all tickets in double from Saturday until the park's closure on Monday evening. We decided to come back the following morning, get a few more tickets, and get our baby girl an even better prize--prolonging our goodbye just a little longer. Before we left, a janitor stopped to chat with us, asking us if either of us remembered the bumper boats from the nineties. Since I did, he brought out a little bag and gave me one of the admission tickets, which hadn't been used in years. It had the old logo on it and everything.
We spent Saturday morning throwing skee balls up ramps, hitting inanimate objects with hammers, and shooting a few basketball hoops until we had enough tickets for the dragon. As I waited in line, though, the last dragon was claimed by another prize-goer. The lines were so long that weekend that this wasn't a surprise, so instead we walked away with a plush cat dressed in blue, as well as a few other smaller prizes that we'll be able to give our little girl through the various stages of her life.
As one does, we took one last look at the park before we left. I watched the beautiful swing set, which had been my favourite ride growing up, and thought to myself that our little girl would grow up in a Moncton with no Crystal Palace. Maybe this seems like unnecessary sentimentality, but we were far from the only ones to come and say goodbye. On Monday afternoon, a group of our friends went to have one last hurrah with the rides and games. They then showed up at our doorstep with their own present for our baby: they had pooled all their tickets together to get her an adorable plush panda. This is another special final memory for the park--one I wasn't even present for.
I'm frustrated that yet more local businesses are being cleared out to make room for big box retailers. Perhaps the numbers of attendees have dwindled over the years for Crystal Palace, but the fact remains that over 150 people are losing their jobs, and a place full of fond memories is going to close down after almost 25 years of business. Crystal Palace was one of the Greater Moncton Area's biggest tourist attractions. Change is usually good, but the change from a family-friendly venue to an enormous hunting and fishing shop is going to take some getting used to. I remain hopeful, as Magic Mountain has stated that they will expand their park to make room for some of the rides, and may open a smaller-scale indoor facility. At the very least, it will be a fun place to go in the summer, but it won't be the same, and it may not be year-round. At least the memories will remain.
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| One last shot of the Crystal Palace sign. |
Recently, my husband Brad and I stopped in at Chapters to browse around. We decided we'd take a walk through Crystal Palace. We have a little one on the way, after all, and we talked about how much we were looking forward to bringing the child there when he or she is old enough. A few weeks later, we heard the sad news that Crystal Palace would be closing at the end of the day on September 1st, so this was never going to happen. We decided we would bring the baby there anyway--so to speak--before the place closed, for one last night of fun and fond memories.
So, the night of Friday, August 29th, we went. We spent the evening playing games and trying to win a prize for the little one, since I couldn't go on any rides. We had discovered the day before that we are to have a little girl, and we were going to try and win her a stuffed dragon. At one point in the night, as we took a break between games, a young girl came up to us and handed us several tickets, saying "you can have these". I looked at her parents, who were with her, and asked if she was sure she wouldn't rather have them for herself. She insisted, and her mother smiled at me and said "we know you're trying to win something for your baby". Brad and I accepted the tickets gratefully, and noticed that they included a slip for over 300 tickets. I tried keep myself together as I put the slip with our other winnings, and the two of us took a break to grab a snack at Pretzelmaker. As we sat with our snack, we watched a a young boy and his father riding the Jumpin' Star together. The look of joy on the little boy's face was unmistakable. A lot of people are going to miss this place, I thought.
We went to cash in our tickets at the end of the night, and the man behind the counter informed us that they would be honouring all tickets in double from Saturday until the park's closure on Monday evening. We decided to come back the following morning, get a few more tickets, and get our baby girl an even better prize--prolonging our goodbye just a little longer. Before we left, a janitor stopped to chat with us, asking us if either of us remembered the bumper boats from the nineties. Since I did, he brought out a little bag and gave me one of the admission tickets, which hadn't been used in years. It had the old logo on it and everything.
 |
| Our spoils of the day: a blue squishy kitty, a yellow Furby-like creature, a plastic purple flute, a Red Wings hat keychain, and a small glow-in-the-dark ring. |
As one does, we took one last look at the park before we left. I watched the beautiful swing set, which had been my favourite ride growing up, and thought to myself that our little girl would grow up in a Moncton with no Crystal Palace. Maybe this seems like unnecessary sentimentality, but we were far from the only ones to come and say goodbye. On Monday afternoon, a group of our friends went to have one last hurrah with the rides and games. They then showed up at our doorstep with their own present for our baby: they had pooled all their tickets together to get her an adorable plush panda. This is another special final memory for the park--one I wasn't even present for.
I'm frustrated that yet more local businesses are being cleared out to make room for big box retailers. Perhaps the numbers of attendees have dwindled over the years for Crystal Palace, but the fact remains that over 150 people are losing their jobs, and a place full of fond memories is going to close down after almost 25 years of business. Crystal Palace was one of the Greater Moncton Area's biggest tourist attractions. Change is usually good, but the change from a family-friendly venue to an enormous hunting and fishing shop is going to take some getting used to. I remain hopeful, as Magic Mountain has stated that they will expand their park to make room for some of the rides, and may open a smaller-scale indoor facility. At the very least, it will be a fun place to go in the summer, but it won't be the same, and it may not be year-round. At least the memories will remain.
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Friday, August 15, 2014
Further public embarrassment for the parties this is dedicated to.
I'm not the greatest friend. I'll be the first person to admit that, even if it pains me to do it. From the early years of my life up until university, I've had a few poisonous friendships that benefited neither party. We would argue incessantly over petty things, fight over significant others, and, whether we were conscious of it or not, silently compete with each
other's accomplishments. I would never try to blame these things on a specific one of us--we were equally to blame for the shortcomings of our friendships. Regardless, this trained me to become a pretty crappy friend.
It was in my fourth year of university that my view of friendship was about to change. I was going through a pretty difficult time--I hated my classes and was even failing a few of them. I was developing an anxiety problem that brought on sudden anxiety attacks and was experiencing depression as a result. I couldn't see an end in sight, despite being nearly finished my degree. Through all this, I met a girl named Sally in one of my classes.
To say we hit it off pretty much immediately is an understatement. The next thing I knew, she was telling me all about her boyfriend Danny and saying I should introduce Brad to him. Before long, the four of us were inseparable.
While I did have a few really good friendships early on--Brad being one of them--I never had to work through any glaring friendship problems because the friendships were rarely important enough for me to be worth it. It's a sad reality that I talk to few of those friends these days, often because our friendships, to me, just weren't worth working on. I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. It's not always the case, of course: I do still talk to a few friends from early on, but they are the minority. Sally and I supported each other through good and bad throughout the years, and she was one of the people, along with Brad and my parents, who supported and agreed with my decision to temporarily leave university when the anxiety got to be too much. Of course, we had our differences as well, but we worked through everything in honest, open communication, and our friendship is that much stronger for it, even if I resisted it at first.
The long and short is this: over the years, I have been more than willing to work through and openly discuss any problems Brad and I may be having, and the same goes for my parents and any family members, but I haven't always been that willing to work through problems openly and honestly with friends. Sally has changed that in me, and she has inspired that change in my other friendships, as well. I haven't always cared whether friendships lasted or not. To be honest, when I was very young, I was often separated with anyone I considered a best friend, due to distance. I can confidently say that even if Sally and Danny were to move away, we'd still be in contact. I like to think that the same is the case with a number of my friendships now.
I can't write all this about Sally without saying anything about Danny, of course. Though I've had more opportunities to really bond with Sally, I feel just as comfortable with Danny, and have hung out with him readily if Sally's busy. This guy is one of the sweetest and most caring friends I've known. He'll give you the shirt off his back and do anything for a friend. I'm not exaggerating. If you're a friend in need, he will help you out. If he can't immediately help, he will find a way and look for a solution as creatively as he needs to, often enlisting other friends as well. The phrase "he has a big heart" is a little cliché and overused, but in Danny's instance, it makes perfect sense.
Why am I writing all of this about these people? Well, Sally and Danny got married on August 9th. Brad and I had gone up to Bathurst several days earlier to stay with Sally's parents for the week. I cooked meals for all six of us and helped out when I could to make preparations go more smoothly. When the wedding day finally arrived, we greeted it eagerly. What a privilege for both Brad and I to be in the wedding party, standing next to our closest friends as they pledged themselves formally to one another. Both of them were a part of our wedding party years before, as well, making our reciprocation feel that much more awesome.
Part of the reason I'm writing this in the first place is because I ended up giving a speech that night. I hadn't planned on it. Sally and Danny had decided that their kissing game would revolve around friends and family telling stories about one or both of them. My speech had started off as the story of my first time meeting Sally, but the more I thought about it, the more I added. I started adding things about our friendship, things about Danny, and wishing them the best. I knew this would have to be a speech.
To be honest, there was a lot more I wanted to say, but I don't think I could have gotten it out without crying--my voice cracked during this version! I didn't want to get too long, or too sappy. So, that's what's happening here. My blog has plenty of room for lengthy sappitude. Sappitude is a word I just invented.
So, this was a bit of a public embarrassment for Sally and Danny. Isn't that what friends are for? I owe a lot to these two, though, and like a couple of other recent blog posts I've made, this is just my own way of expressing my gratitude. I've grown and changed a lot as a person over the years, and the people around me have always been an influence on how that growth has manifested. I know this: my life would be a lot different if I hadn't taken note of that little Pachirisu keychain on Sally's bag that day in class. I like to think that the way my life has evolved to this point is better for that event.
I love the crap outta you guys, Sally and Danny. Congratulations on your new beginning, for the 38452th time.
 |
| Sally on the left, and me on the right, at her and Danny's wedding reception on August 9th, 2014. |
It was in my fourth year of university that my view of friendship was about to change. I was going through a pretty difficult time--I hated my classes and was even failing a few of them. I was developing an anxiety problem that brought on sudden anxiety attacks and was experiencing depression as a result. I couldn't see an end in sight, despite being nearly finished my degree. Through all this, I met a girl named Sally in one of my classes.
To say we hit it off pretty much immediately is an understatement. The next thing I knew, she was telling me all about her boyfriend Danny and saying I should introduce Brad to him. Before long, the four of us were inseparable.
While I did have a few really good friendships early on--Brad being one of them--I never had to work through any glaring friendship problems because the friendships were rarely important enough for me to be worth it. It's a sad reality that I talk to few of those friends these days, often because our friendships, to me, just weren't worth working on. I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth. It's not always the case, of course: I do still talk to a few friends from early on, but they are the minority. Sally and I supported each other through good and bad throughout the years, and she was one of the people, along with Brad and my parents, who supported and agreed with my decision to temporarily leave university when the anxiety got to be too much. Of course, we had our differences as well, but we worked through everything in honest, open communication, and our friendship is that much stronger for it, even if I resisted it at first.
The long and short is this: over the years, I have been more than willing to work through and openly discuss any problems Brad and I may be having, and the same goes for my parents and any family members, but I haven't always been that willing to work through problems openly and honestly with friends. Sally has changed that in me, and she has inspired that change in my other friendships, as well. I haven't always cared whether friendships lasted or not. To be honest, when I was very young, I was often separated with anyone I considered a best friend, due to distance. I can confidently say that even if Sally and Danny were to move away, we'd still be in contact. I like to think that the same is the case with a number of my friendships now.
I can't write all this about Sally without saying anything about Danny, of course. Though I've had more opportunities to really bond with Sally, I feel just as comfortable with Danny, and have hung out with him readily if Sally's busy. This guy is one of the sweetest and most caring friends I've known. He'll give you the shirt off his back and do anything for a friend. I'm not exaggerating. If you're a friend in need, he will help you out. If he can't immediately help, he will find a way and look for a solution as creatively as he needs to, often enlisting other friends as well. The phrase "he has a big heart" is a little cliché and overused, but in Danny's instance, it makes perfect sense.
Why am I writing all of this about these people? Well, Sally and Danny got married on August 9th. Brad and I had gone up to Bathurst several days earlier to stay with Sally's parents for the week. I cooked meals for all six of us and helped out when I could to make preparations go more smoothly. When the wedding day finally arrived, we greeted it eagerly. What a privilege for both Brad and I to be in the wedding party, standing next to our closest friends as they pledged themselves formally to one another. Both of them were a part of our wedding party years before, as well, making our reciprocation feel that much more awesome.
 |
| This isn't a picture of just the wedding party, but of a big group of our friends. That should tell you how much friendship means to these guys. Sally and Danny are in the front. Photo by Kate Meisner. |
Part of the reason I'm writing this in the first place is because I ended up giving a speech that night. I hadn't planned on it. Sally and Danny had decided that their kissing game would revolve around friends and family telling stories about one or both of them. My speech had started off as the story of my first time meeting Sally, but the more I thought about it, the more I added. I started adding things about our friendship, things about Danny, and wishing them the best. I knew this would have to be a speech.
I have a story, but it kind of evolved into a speech, so here I am now.
Sally and I met in a third year philo course at Université de Moncton. We already kind of knew of each other, but as I sat next to her that day, I took note of a tiny Pokémon keychain on her bag. I immediately knew: I can talk to this girl. What started as in-class acquaintance bloomed into a fast friendship. The next thing I knew, I was bringing my now-husband Brad over to her house and introducing him to Danny.
Never before have Brad and I clicked so well with a couple. In the months that followed, the four of us ran the Pokémon League together for little kids. And now here we are, seven years later.
If there's one thing I can say about this couple, it is this: these two are the best friends anyone can have. They will do anything for their friends and they have so much love to give. If you count these two among your circle of friends, you have something rare and special.
Sally and Danny, you are both wonderful people, and I wish you all the happiness--though I know you'll have many happy years to come. Brad and I are so thankful to be a part of your lives.
To be honest, there was a lot more I wanted to say, but I don't think I could have gotten it out without crying--my voice cracked during this version! I didn't want to get too long, or too sappy. So, that's what's happening here. My blog has plenty of room for lengthy sappitude. Sappitude is a word I just invented.
So, this was a bit of a public embarrassment for Sally and Danny. Isn't that what friends are for? I owe a lot to these two, though, and like a couple of other recent blog posts I've made, this is just my own way of expressing my gratitude. I've grown and changed a lot as a person over the years, and the people around me have always been an influence on how that growth has manifested. I know this: my life would be a lot different if I hadn't taken note of that little Pachirisu keychain on Sally's bag that day in class. I like to think that the way my life has evolved to this point is better for that event.
I love the crap outta you guys, Sally and Danny. Congratulations on your new beginning, for the 38452th time.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
A life in flux
Why do I seem to go through periods of my life that are incredibly busy, only to come out the other side to an almost complete stillness? Why am I okay with having the answer to the "how have you been?" question be "BUSY!"? What makes me enjoy this intense process of having no free time, and then suddenly being met with an abundance of it?
I know the answer to all of these, but sometimes I will ask myself these questions anyway. I'll start to feel my sanity slowly slip away as my busy-ness consumes my life and reduces it to a schedule of "go to work, do the thing, sleep, repeat". Why do I love to torture myself?
It's actually a pretty simple response. Those intense, busy periods make for better writing. And when they're finally over, there's nothing like the week after, when free time exists again. The first day off is absolute bliss. The next thing I know, I'm out for hours-long walks and contemplating what project I'm going to work on next.
Sometimes I think I'd like to live a life that's wholly quiet, but I'd probably get bored. Instead, I'd rather enjoy the quiet moments that come while being otherwise occupied, and the ebb and flow of 3 months busy, 1 month not busy. Maybe I'll, eventually, get to take and appreciate more quiet time, but it certainly won't be anytime soon. Having a number of interests, hobbies and extracurricular activities makes for a hectic life, but it's a fulfilling one, at least.
Things are calming down a bit for me right now. I've been taking courses all through the past year and I have a full month away from them until I go back in September. Since May, I've been working on the annual Shakespeare in the Park with a group of wonderful people. We put on our final performance of the tragedy of Julius Caesar on Saturday night. That's now over, too, and while I feel satisfied, I'm also sad to be parting with these people. Every summer there seems to be this sense of camaraderie--we all become friends and go on outings together while the play is going. Then, at the end of the play, there's a dissolution. It's always bittersweet, because we rarely see each other all at once after closing night. But then, in plays to come, we'll have the inside jokes and the other little reminders. It's a brief flame, but it burns brightly.
My first day of vacation from work is today, too, and I've been spending it by finishing my final project for my class and getting ready for a small trip. What this means is that the three things really eating my time are, temporarily, done, and while they have all been utterly worth my while, I'll get to enjoy the fleeting quiet that comes from having no urgent projects or deadlines. Two of my best friends are getting married this weekend, and while I'll be busy--being in the wedding party--I plan on enjoying every minute of it, and finding any available quiet within. I've never been to Bathurst before, and my husband Brad and I plan on enjoying the trip over.
My life is about to get more hectic-- in a few ways, too, even though I'm entering a brief period of quiet. Brad and I found out back in May that we're expecting our first child, to arrive in January. I have a bit of a looming deadline: finish my degree before the baby comes. That means I'm hitting the books as hard as ever once again in September, but I'll only have two courses to complete because I worked so hard during the spring and summer. Between classes and work, I'll still be plenty busy, but there should be enough downtime in there to keep me happy. Though, auditions for the Mousetrap are in September...
What's keeping me calm lately? A few small, specific things. Slow, quiet mornings, car rides, sitting in the grass, this song, Mountain, and... cleaning. A messy house stresses me out, but when my life is filled with so many things, cleaning gets put on the backburner. There's nothing like taking the extra time to tidy and get rid of clutter. Though I'll only really be working in the next month, I have a lot planned for my free time. Writing is definitely one of those many things...
I know the answer to all of these, but sometimes I will ask myself these questions anyway. I'll start to feel my sanity slowly slip away as my busy-ness consumes my life and reduces it to a schedule of "go to work, do the thing, sleep, repeat". Why do I love to torture myself?
It's actually a pretty simple response. Those intense, busy periods make for better writing. And when they're finally over, there's nothing like the week after, when free time exists again. The first day off is absolute bliss. The next thing I know, I'm out for hours-long walks and contemplating what project I'm going to work on next.
Sometimes I think I'd like to live a life that's wholly quiet, but I'd probably get bored. Instead, I'd rather enjoy the quiet moments that come while being otherwise occupied, and the ebb and flow of 3 months busy, 1 month not busy. Maybe I'll, eventually, get to take and appreciate more quiet time, but it certainly won't be anytime soon. Having a number of interests, hobbies and extracurricular activities makes for a hectic life, but it's a fulfilling one, at least.
Things are calming down a bit for me right now. I've been taking courses all through the past year and I have a full month away from them until I go back in September. Since May, I've been working on the annual Shakespeare in the Park with a group of wonderful people. We put on our final performance of the tragedy of Julius Caesar on Saturday night. That's now over, too, and while I feel satisfied, I'm also sad to be parting with these people. Every summer there seems to be this sense of camaraderie--we all become friends and go on outings together while the play is going. Then, at the end of the play, there's a dissolution. It's always bittersweet, because we rarely see each other all at once after closing night. But then, in plays to come, we'll have the inside jokes and the other little reminders. It's a brief flame, but it burns brightly.
My first day of vacation from work is today, too, and I've been spending it by finishing my final project for my class and getting ready for a small trip. What this means is that the three things really eating my time are, temporarily, done, and while they have all been utterly worth my while, I'll get to enjoy the fleeting quiet that comes from having no urgent projects or deadlines. Two of my best friends are getting married this weekend, and while I'll be busy--being in the wedding party--I plan on enjoying every minute of it, and finding any available quiet within. I've never been to Bathurst before, and my husband Brad and I plan on enjoying the trip over.
My life is about to get more hectic-- in a few ways, too, even though I'm entering a brief period of quiet. Brad and I found out back in May that we're expecting our first child, to arrive in January. I have a bit of a looming deadline: finish my degree before the baby comes. That means I'm hitting the books as hard as ever once again in September, but I'll only have two courses to complete because I worked so hard during the spring and summer. Between classes and work, I'll still be plenty busy, but there should be enough downtime in there to keep me happy. Though, auditions for the Mousetrap are in September...
What's keeping me calm lately? A few small, specific things. Slow, quiet mornings, car rides, sitting in the grass, this song, Mountain, and... cleaning. A messy house stresses me out, but when my life is filled with so many things, cleaning gets put on the backburner. There's nothing like taking the extra time to tidy and get rid of clutter. Though I'll only really be working in the next month, I have a lot planned for my free time. Writing is definitely one of those many things...
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Happy birthday, Mom.
I missed doing a Mother's Day post, as was my intention, because I was too busy giving my mother the news that she's going to be a grandmother in January. Since I did a Father's Day post, though, it doesn't seem right for me to skip one dedicated to Mom. Today is her birthday, so I'd say this is as good a time as any to say a few words about her.
Where to begin with my mom? Laurie Armstrong Cooper is an incredibly special woman. No amount of words I could speak could begin to thank her for the things she's done for me. I'll try, in some small part, nonetheless.
My mom is an English professor at l'Université de Moncton, and I have not met a student of hers that doesn't love her. I've had more than one of her former students tell me how much her guidance meant to them during a difficult time in their lives, some of them going so far as to say she was like a mother to them. This isn't out of the ordinary for Laurie Cooper--this is an everyday occurrence. Any time I'm in public with her, she will stop to wave to someone, then turn to me to explain, "student". Most times I can guess that on my own. She remembers all of her students and they all have a special place with her. It's inspiring to see. I even took classes with her in some of my early years of university. A lot of people asked me if this was awkward or weird, and it never was. Even if she did sometimes tease me for some of my obviously BS-ed exam answers...
She wasn't always a professor, though. When I was growing up, she'd often take odd jobs in order to
help support me and Dad. She started off as a journalist, and that was what she initially went to school for. She had a very short maternity leave--this was well before New Brunswick's maternity leave was improved upon--and she left me with Dad during the day while she was busy with work. She took photographs for her journalistic pursuits, and in the last few years has gotten into it again as a hobby. She took some wedding photos for my cousins a few years back, and the pictures always turn out beautiful.
Both of my parents, in a lot of ways, made up for a childhood that would have otherwise been very difficult. While I was teased and bullied for the way I looked, my parents were building me up and encouraging me to pursue my dreams. Everyone has some kind of struggle growing up, and I'm glad that through it all, I had a great relationship with both of them that kept me going. School was hard, but at least I got to go home at the end of the day. Likely I wouldn't be writing in this blog today without their early encouragement.
My mom is also one of my best friends. I really feel like I can--and I often do--tell her anything, and she always listens without judging. We meet at least once a week for coffee or breakfast and if we had more time, I'm sure we could talk for hours on end. She is incredibly supportive of everything I do, and doesn't discourage me, even when my dreams are bigger than reality, and even if my expectations are sometimes selfish or unrealistic.
One of the things that always stuck with me about Mom was how she would get interested in my interests. I gamed a lot growing up, and not only would she come to watch me playing these games, she would join in, too. To this day, her favourite is still Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and when I go to visit on holidays, sometimes I'll hear the music playing in the other room and I'll know she's started up a new game. On road trips, we used to take turns playing Pokémon Pinball on my GameBoy Colour.
My mom is proof that you don't have to choose between being a parent and a friend--that you can be both simultaneously, and when your child gets old enough to leave the house, you will have a lifelong friend with no further discipline necessary. I only hope that I can be even a fraction of the mother my mom is.
I love you, mom. Happy birthday.
Where to begin with my mom? Laurie Armstrong Cooper is an incredibly special woman. No amount of words I could speak could begin to thank her for the things she's done for me. I'll try, in some small part, nonetheless.
My mom is an English professor at l'Université de Moncton, and I have not met a student of hers that doesn't love her. I've had more than one of her former students tell me how much her guidance meant to them during a difficult time in their lives, some of them going so far as to say she was like a mother to them. This isn't out of the ordinary for Laurie Cooper--this is an everyday occurrence. Any time I'm in public with her, she will stop to wave to someone, then turn to me to explain, "student". Most times I can guess that on my own. She remembers all of her students and they all have a special place with her. It's inspiring to see. I even took classes with her in some of my early years of university. A lot of people asked me if this was awkward or weird, and it never was. Even if she did sometimes tease me for some of my obviously BS-ed exam answers...
She wasn't always a professor, though. When I was growing up, she'd often take odd jobs in order to
 |
| A picture Mom took of a peony in front of my house. |
Both of my parents, in a lot of ways, made up for a childhood that would have otherwise been very difficult. While I was teased and bullied for the way I looked, my parents were building me up and encouraging me to pursue my dreams. Everyone has some kind of struggle growing up, and I'm glad that through it all, I had a great relationship with both of them that kept me going. School was hard, but at least I got to go home at the end of the day. Likely I wouldn't be writing in this blog today without their early encouragement.
My mom is also one of my best friends. I really feel like I can--and I often do--tell her anything, and she always listens without judging. We meet at least once a week for coffee or breakfast and if we had more time, I'm sure we could talk for hours on end. She is incredibly supportive of everything I do, and doesn't discourage me, even when my dreams are bigger than reality, and even if my expectations are sometimes selfish or unrealistic.
One of the things that always stuck with me about Mom was how she would get interested in my interests. I gamed a lot growing up, and not only would she come to watch me playing these games, she would join in, too. To this day, her favourite is still Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and when I go to visit on holidays, sometimes I'll hear the music playing in the other room and I'll know she's started up a new game. On road trips, we used to take turns playing Pokémon Pinball on my GameBoy Colour.
My mom is proof that you don't have to choose between being a parent and a friend--that you can be both simultaneously, and when your child gets old enough to leave the house, you will have a lifelong friend with no further discipline necessary. I only hope that I can be even a fraction of the mother my mom is.
I love you, mom. Happy birthday.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Father's Day
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| My Dad, Allan Cooper, reading poetry at the Université de Moncton library. |
That was how my father was introduced on Thursday, April 24th, when going up to read his poetry at a Frye Festival event here in Moncton.
Something about that moment filled me with such immense pride that, I couldn't help but beam and clap loudly as he went to the front to read.
Those few words summed up my childhood with Allan Cooper pretty well. If I went anywhere with Dad, you could be sure that we were going to run into at least one person he knew, and he'd have a chat with them. It was, and still is, an inevitability. He'd even spend a few minutes catching up with the woman working the counter at the post office if he was just popping in to get the mail. Anywhere I went with Dad would end in a slightly longer trip than expected. Sometimes, though, it wouldn't be because we ran into people, but because we went on an impromptu adventure. He'd tell me stories about when he was a kid and his father--my grandfather John Cooper, who I sadly never met--would take him on adventures. They'd get to the bottom of a street, and Grampie John would ask Dad "left or right, boy?". Dad continued this tradition on with me, and we still do this sometimes on my days off. My Dad loves to golf, too, and often spends a sunny day in the summer time on the greens of Fundy.
My Dad is a social animal, but he is also well known for his talents. He's is a poet--that's his full-time job. He's written 14 books and won literary awards. As previously mentioned, he's read at the Frye Festival, on numerous occasions. In addition to being a poet, he's also a musician. He started out with a blues trio and went on to do his own solo projects. He's been nominated for Music NB awards and has played showcases for both Music NB and the East Coast Music Awards. Dad wanted to be a poet since he was a young man, and the fact that he's been able to follow his dreams his whole life has been an immense inspiration to me.
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| Me and Dad a few years ago, heading out to see the band Mother Mother in concert together. |
Being an artist himself, Dad always has encouraged me to pursue my own dreams of becoming a writer. He has helped me edit and proofread my own poetry and helped me find my voice, in addition to all the guidance he gave me growing up. Now, spending time with my dad isn't just like hanging out with a family member--he's a good friend. We still spend a lot of time going for hikes together, which we did when I was in high school--this, and his influence, helped me have an appreciation for the woods and nature. We used to go on the back of the hill and pick blueberries to make pies together. We've played many, many hours of Mario Golf and Mario Kart together. Besides the serious side he displays while reading poetry and playing music, many friends and family members can account for his silliness and fun-loving attitude.
One of my favourite early memories of Dad was when I was very young--probably only 2 or 3. Dad had a big garden in our lower lot in Riverview. He grew big, beautiful tomatoes, and one day had picked one to show me. It was gorgeous--but sadly, I thought it was an apple. He encouraged me to take a bite, and I did. And I didn't like tomatoes again until I was about 23. Now, I'm growing my own tomatoes.
I could go on forever about my dad. I feel incredibly lucky to have had a close relationship with him all these years and I always enjoy spending time with him. He's promised me we're going to spend some time this summer doing a writing workshop together and going on hikes. Last year, we spent a day out on the beautiful Matthew's Head trail in Fundy park, and I can only imagine we're going to do something similar this summer.
Thanks for everything you've done for me, Dad. Here's to the future continuing to be filled with a healthy mixture of silliness and seriousness. I love you.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Resurgo.
I was born in the Moncton Hospital in 1986. I lived in Riverview until I was 5, when we moved to Alma. I started attending Université de Moncton in 2004, and lived in Moncton in fall and winter until 2008, when I moved here year-round. I joke to people "I was born in Moncton, and I'm still here! I haven't gone far in life!", but I love this city. I can't go for a walk without seeing somebody I know, and that's just from working customer service here in the last five years.
Last week, tragedy unfolded. Our beautiful city, a vibrant and close-knit community, was under threat from a gunman. More than a third of Moncton was in lockdown. I had friends who heard the gunshots while out walking, thinking people were setting off fireworks because it was such a beautiful day. I knew at least six families, off the top of my head, who were in the red zone. We weren't, but we were close enough that we didn't want to risk it--the closest police barricade was only five minutes away. #prayformoncton was trending globally on Twitter--a recognition we sadly hoped would be in better circumstances.
Everyone in Moncton was somehow affected by the hours of terror that followed. Five officers were shot, three of whom died from their wounds--their families and friends, to say the least, were among the most affected.
Despite the terror and fear, though, there was one thing I noticed about the situation that made our beautiful community seem even more so.
Love. Support. Unity.
People were sharing information--not the locations of the RCMP and their movements, mind you, as was requested of us--and putting friends up in their homes. Porch lights were on across the city to aid the police in their manhunt, leaving a city that felt very dark covered in lights of hope. People stayed in their homes in an attempt to make the suspect the only person moving. The whole city was at a virtual standstill as businesses closed and buses were pulled off the roads. When the announcement came that the suspect was in custody, there was a flood of relief. People were on the roads at 1:30 AM, cheering and smiling. I'm sure I'm not the only one who immediately felt safe again.
The days that followed the shooter's arrest were filled with such an outpouring of support for the RCMP and other first responders that I couldn't help but be proud. I went to get lunch with my mom the day after, and an officer was behind me in line. With tears in my eyes, I shook his hand and thanked him. I watched as he approached the front of the line and a man tried to pay for his lunch. The woman behind the cash smiled and shook her head, saying "it's on us". Business signs on Mountain Road were changed to say "thank you RCMP". My own workplace started selling muffins, 100% of the proceeds going toward the Moncton Fallen RCMP Members Memorial Fund, and today I am trading in my work uniform of green and black for red and white to show my support.
Friday night, a candlelight vigil was held in front of the RCMP's office on Main Street. I've heard mixed reports that anywhere from 2,000-10,000 people were there, but I would believe any number on that spectrum. My husband and I went to witness it, and it was incredible. Flowers covered the steps leading to the building to the point that they had to be left on the street. There was so much love and respect.
This is a public thank you to the RCMP, who were professional and dealt with a difficult situation in a way I can't imagine being any better. Thank you for protecting our beautiful city while mourning your friends, who must have been like family members to you. My heart is with the family and friends of everyone affected by this tragedy.
Violence causes so much pain in everyone's lives, both physically and mentally. To see Moncton come together in love for each other has been so important during this time. It is my sincere wish that through these horrific events, something beautiful can come, and from what I've seen, it's already begun. Nothing can change what happened, but we can prevent events like this from terrorizing our lives again. Violence can only beget violence; let's try to love each other a bit more.
Moncton's motto, by the way, is "Resurgo", which means "I rise up again". Never before has it been more appropriate.
Last week, tragedy unfolded. Our beautiful city, a vibrant and close-knit community, was under threat from a gunman. More than a third of Moncton was in lockdown. I had friends who heard the gunshots while out walking, thinking people were setting off fireworks because it was such a beautiful day. I knew at least six families, off the top of my head, who were in the red zone. We weren't, but we were close enough that we didn't want to risk it--the closest police barricade was only five minutes away. #prayformoncton was trending globally on Twitter--a recognition we sadly hoped would be in better circumstances.
Everyone in Moncton was somehow affected by the hours of terror that followed. Five officers were shot, three of whom died from their wounds--their families and friends, to say the least, were among the most affected.
 |
| These are the three officers whose names we must remember: Constable Dave Ross, Constable Fabrice Gevaudan, and Constable Douglas Larche. These three men died protecting our city. |
Despite the terror and fear, though, there was one thing I noticed about the situation that made our beautiful community seem even more so.
Love. Support. Unity.
People were sharing information--not the locations of the RCMP and their movements, mind you, as was requested of us--and putting friends up in their homes. Porch lights were on across the city to aid the police in their manhunt, leaving a city that felt very dark covered in lights of hope. People stayed in their homes in an attempt to make the suspect the only person moving. The whole city was at a virtual standstill as businesses closed and buses were pulled off the roads. When the announcement came that the suspect was in custody, there was a flood of relief. People were on the roads at 1:30 AM, cheering and smiling. I'm sure I'm not the only one who immediately felt safe again.
The days that followed the shooter's arrest were filled with such an outpouring of support for the RCMP and other first responders that I couldn't help but be proud. I went to get lunch with my mom the day after, and an officer was behind me in line. With tears in my eyes, I shook his hand and thanked him. I watched as he approached the front of the line and a man tried to pay for his lunch. The woman behind the cash smiled and shook her head, saying "it's on us". Business signs on Mountain Road were changed to say "thank you RCMP". My own workplace started selling muffins, 100% of the proceeds going toward the Moncton Fallen RCMP Members Memorial Fund, and today I am trading in my work uniform of green and black for red and white to show my support.
Friday night, a candlelight vigil was held in front of the RCMP's office on Main Street. I've heard mixed reports that anywhere from 2,000-10,000 people were there, but I would believe any number on that spectrum. My husband and I went to witness it, and it was incredible. Flowers covered the steps leading to the building to the point that they had to be left on the street. There was so much love and respect.
This is a public thank you to the RCMP, who were professional and dealt with a difficult situation in a way I can't imagine being any better. Thank you for protecting our beautiful city while mourning your friends, who must have been like family members to you. My heart is with the family and friends of everyone affected by this tragedy.
Violence causes so much pain in everyone's lives, both physically and mentally. To see Moncton come together in love for each other has been so important during this time. It is my sincere wish that through these horrific events, something beautiful can come, and from what I've seen, it's already begun. Nothing can change what happened, but we can prevent events like this from terrorizing our lives again. Violence can only beget violence; let's try to love each other a bit more.
Moncton's motto, by the way, is "Resurgo", which means "I rise up again". Never before has it been more appropriate.
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