Jul 9, 2009

manitoulin, day 6

I highly recommend listening to one of my favourite albums, it's Folkloric Feel by Apostle of Hustle, while reading this entry. The mood of the record fits the mood of these experiences so, so perfectly, it's almost crazy. I first listened to this album at a time in my life where I felt very happy, very content, calm and very independent, riding the bus in Oakville in the winter time, solo. My legs were crossed and my arms took turns resting along the backs of each chair on this bus. Happy face.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

I slept indoors last night and, surprisingly, the bugs woke me up. They woke me up around 3, and then at 4, and then just after 5. Each time, I noted the colour of the sky just outside the window adjacent to the pullout couch that I was on. At 3 the sky was fairly dark, but closer to 4, the blue in it was birthed, and the clouds were shapely and a softer blue. By 5ish, you could tell that the sun was in the process of rising, coming, on the Island, as faint oranges and light yellows were accumulating at a slow, calming pace. I went to the washroom each time, and felt like going outside each time. By 5:30, I decided to get up, and thought, “This is what I wanted,” as whenever I go to bed within the early hours of the morning, I have a tendency to get a shorter sleep, thus I woke up unusually, but perfectly early, or on time. Looking for, but not being able to find the Special K Vanilla Almond cereal, I silently poured a bowl of Alphabits for myself (I love letters, words, word games, word things, books, The Books) and boiled water for a tea. This is where I find my peace of mind, at times where the remainder of the people in this house are asleep, somewhat unconscious. Present, but a little gone, temporarily. I love to be alone. I love feeling alone. I discovered this about myself in the winter, and then again before I left to come up to the Island, and then again right now. There’s something to be said about being capable of doing your own thing and completely loving it, and not depending on other’s for your happiness or your contentment or your fun. It’s when one is alone they can tap into their true, inner self, ridding outer complexities and abnormalities, influences. Be as you are, for you are one, and one forever.

I enjoyed the idea of going down to the lake to read and maybe for a walk, so I collected my novel, mug, my socks and my sandals, saw that the dock was too wet to sit on, so walked down the road a little, reading, inhaling. The pages quickly became damp from the blanket of moisture from previous, soft rainstorms, but will later dry and recrisp themselves, upon entering shelter once more. I felt as though I were in a movie, or on a stage, dreaming, high. I began to think of the spherical shape of our Earth and how, from the moon’s point of view, I’m an ant’s ant. You, and I too are on this massive, jagged at times, ball, rotating. I find it hard to fully comprehend, and when I get it, it’s only for a second, and then it’s gone. One day I will understand and will love this for more than just a couple minutes.

Getting past the page I had previously read more than four times, I flipped it, finished my tea, and continued reading down the road with the black mug tucked under my right arm, like a baby, or a dog, or a book bag. I heard the rawest of sounds during my walk. Cows on the left and woodpeckers just up on the right and so much more even further on the left. It sounds insignificant, faceless, faux, but this is exactly how it went. Like I said, it was all sort of like some movie, and staged. But it wasn’t. It was very unique and free, this force. Free to change and to flow, adapting and existing alone.

At the furthest point of my Wednesday walk, I started to hear this thick, low thumping. I can’t compare it to the knock at the door or a splash in your pool or a gargle in the sink, nor dynamite. It sounded almost like an enlarged brick had been gently dropped from a few stories, into an open field of medium length grass. Not quite bullrushes, not quite sod. I peered, motionless, through the angular shapes that the trees were forming, to see three deer galloping like kangaroos short, although long distances in this little fielded, fenced area where the cows play. They heard the cracking of the gravel underneath my sandals, so they froze, thinking they were camouflaged; iguanas. Now, I do not know how to put this scenario further into words, these feelings, not now. I’ve never written about nature in this blunt, realest of forms before. I will not lie, I was scared, and I did turn back. I pictured the worse. How do I depict this beautiful deer? Do I swear in amazement, or try ferociously to use the softest, most eloquent adjectives to bring them to life on the page and to make them seem like my friends and not creatures? I did not take any photos, so I will leave this experience as is. Read this over, maybe find your own deer, or these ones, and tell me how you do. Embark.

The clocks are no longer in unison, but resemble a quick “he he,” not from the belly, but right from the front of your mouth. Get ‘em in, get ‘em out. The bottom of my sweatpants are damp, as are my socks, thus they’re sitting folded on the ground to the left of the couch that I slept on. My lap is warm due to my lap top and my mouth is very morning. Soon this room will be born for the day, the last day, and I’ll continue to read and to be quiet until the majority of the family is up and at’em. These coasters are gorgeous, as are these mugs, as is this cottage, as is this home. I’ll forever remember my experience(s) here on Manitoulin Island. As a child, I would have taken these activities and games for surface value and bluntly, for what they were; activities and games. But they were so much more. They brought us together, enabled laughter, a chance to talk, a chance to catch up on some very missed reading, an opportunity for quiet time, resting, warmth. Investigation, admiration, appreciation and wonderment. Contradictions and afflictions and mourning and a fresh start, an open door, a segway into what’s to come. Self discovery, seeking simplicities, games, questions. Being here influenced me and allowed me to learn a little more about myself.

Being here makes me want to:
1. Shower less and be comfortable in my own filth. It is mine, after all. Who’s sniffin’ anyway?
2. Take more photos. Many more.
3. Rearrange my room to allow more art practices to take place in it. Think studio.
4. Participate in more hands on arts and crafts; I plan to start up an Etsy. I plan to invest in more art supplies. I want to do some (wire) sculpting.
5. Be more alone, for me.

6. Be alone, without any ways to record the experience, but to just be.

7. Pick people’s brains by stepping out of my element just a little bit.

8. Converse.

9. Stay active and healthy.

10. Find simplicity and rid complexity as much as I can.

11. Paint.

12. Read and write more and more and more and more.

13. Compose. Create. Construct. Concoct. Conduct. But never conform.

14. Write letters.

15. Stay organized, but homey.

16. Obtain some sort of balance in my life, whether it be with and between school, work, friends, family, and/or myself. Any and/or all combinations will do.

17. Save money, spend wisely, but never regret impulse buys because what’s done is, well, done. Receipt, regret?

18. Like lots.

19. Explore further.

20. Love these moments.

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I found a beautifully unfinished cottage consisting mainly of a pink wall, the pink wall. We took great advantage of this. The entire experience, to me, resembled Lacoste, no?

I feel as though thinking of words, forming sentences, spewing paragraphs as an explanation, supporting evidence to the next set of photos would be inappropriate, and almost insulting to the experience we shared. Have a taste though if you like, 'cause I like:

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