Sep 6, 2009

i am becoming

Ah ha. Here we are, welcome aboard. It’s the very early morning of my move out day. My move in day. Some day that I thought I’d never peak at, thus it’s currently slapping me in the psychological face, and it hurts, but it feels good. It’s becoming real. “Have a good trip tomorrow.” ~Jesse McLellan. At this moment, I completely forgot where I was headed. I had no idea which trip I was going on, and tomorrow. Every time I think I’m going to get up, call Meagan in the morning time, not fully being able to talk yet because I just woke up and just fixed myself cereal. I keep thinking I’d lounge on my lap top, waiting for Jesse or for Paul to come online to ask them what they did yesterday, last night, what their plans are for this beautiful day today. Paul will tell me about that awesome, and/or terrifying dream he had last night. Jesse will type really cute things in lowercase. I keep thinking I’ll be biking down to the East end tomorrow. I think I’ll be putting my iPod on, biking East underneath the new bridge that wasn’t there before. During, I’ll remember when I got caught by a train on the way to meeting Paul at Ultra, even though it’s called Metro now. I’ll ride on the pink spot of the sidewalk, on the miniature part, thinking about long pathways on campus. I keep thinking I’ll ask Jill what she’s up to, how work was, how she’s getting booze tonight. I keep thinking I’ll wish Rachel wasn’t working so I could embrace her room that can’t be put into words. Tonight I stated that her room is one of my favourite places to be in the entire world, comparing it to all I’ve seen so far. This statement remains true, despite Paul’s sense of shock when I admitted it. The only word I can think of to describe this distinctive abyss is: home.


It’s 12:31 and it feels like you’ll appear in 3 minutes. It feels like you’re going to surprise me. Like you’re Punk’ing me. Like your running a race to my bedroom. 2 minutes.

I fill out some of my new address book. I get to Rachel, try to write Holly Hill. Door bell.

I can’t stop looking at the time in the top right corner. It feels like new years eve.

Meagan is crying. It’s the tears that sit there in the bottom eyelids without exploding outward, downward to the ground.

I see it. Do you?

She’s still there, only crying.

Do you still? I wish it would remain this time. But what is this time, really, without moderation? Like the gray blue sky before the sunrise, right? 12:35.

“It’s weird that I won’t be able to text you.” It is weird. “I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.” ~Paul McCartney

I do not wish to remain in contact via text message, at least until Thanksgiving. Who knows what’ll happen afterwards. It’s like I’m cutting these strings. They aren’t the type that dominate though. They aren’t hemp. Only threads. Like your baby teeth, hanging by a thread, coming out and putting them under your pillow and getting a toonie for them. You are this fairy. You are forever there.

She put her “something for you” in between the sweater that she gave me in exchange for my purple one and my burgundy jacket that I left at her place the day before. It was a bold, black spiral ring sketch book of sorts. I was so appreciate of the fact she bought me something to channel my feelings and my artwork on. An outlet that won’t go unnoticed. I take it back to my computer and my address booking at the head of the dining room table, open it up, and see that this is far more than just a sketchbook, ladies and gentleman. If this is perfection, it is currently existing in the medium sized cardboard box that I am bringing to school with me tomorrow. Today. I am speechless. I cannot comprehend. I feel like dedicating things, life, to you. You really are a gem.

It was hard to hear things like “You deserve this,” especially from people you don’t really expect to voice it. I’m sure they mean it, I don’t think they’re pretending, but it’s difficult. I need to work on learning how to receive better than I am today. Today.

I visited Kate this morning after my last bike ride south on Appleby to the East end of the summer of two thousand nine.

One moment. Memories are flooding out in the open.


We went to Mohawk to relax on the playground. To chit. To chat. We discussed Tim Burton a bit, future, plans, roommates, returning, going. She offered to bike me to Brittney’s because she lived close. I will miss my Neopet in my pocket. You are a quirky young woman! You won’t be forgotten, you know that right?

Brittney was working so I said hello goodbye to her folks. They seemed sincere in their wishes for me at school. I told them I’d give Britt a call. They said that’d be best.

I biked really quickly down to Rachel’s, west on Burloak, because she had to work in a half hour, at noon. Her hair was wet. She was clean and ready and refreshed and a refreshment on her own. I got water, and she even allowed me to crack the ice cube tray with me in the room, despite her slight cringing, trying to focus on her frosted mini wheats that would soon go soggy, and appropriately so. I have gifts for you! “You’re awesome.” ~Rachel Bailey. Enjoy the sketchbook. The book. The candle. The teas, one from Mexico, others from our Bubble. The CDs, one of the Van Gogh coasters, cause I will continue to do so, will you? Enjoy the Bison purple ribbon, and the hemp. Always enjoy the hemp. I fetched her sturdy as ever but innocent in appearance bicycle from the wooden shed to the front, met her tying up her solid black Nike’s and turned onto Appleby heading south again. We turned right, then left, then right into Appleby Place. This is where it gets perfect.

R, to 3 ladies: “This is my friend Andrew. He’s off to university tomorrow.”
A: “Hello!”

...blended with Ladies: “Hello!”

Ladies: (Lady gasps) “Oh, where are you headed!”

A: “Oh, Queen’s!”

Ladies: (Lady gasps)
R: “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”


Ladies: “Give her a kiss!”
A: (Air kiss) I gave you a kiss.
R: (Laughs)
R, to ladies, while entering: “When we were in kindergarten, he used to chase me around trying to kiss me.”

The biggest smiles.

See you later.

See you later.

The biggest smile.

The bluest, most serene eyes.

I biked away west on Pinedale with a very genuine, meaningful, memorable smile on my face. Slowly sinking in, only sort of. I wanted to say good bye to Meagan’s dad, but remembered that it was him who was driving her up to Ottawa at that moment. So I went to Meagan’s mom’s. Zach answered. Ben was over there, hanging out, being a big puppy dog, always. Katherine and I began talking, but she suggested we come outside on the porch. I cannot describe, nor explain, nor depict, nor recite our conversation. That is all. A hug. A promise to visit on Thanksgiving. A pink polo t-shirt. Thanks for being there. Your intentions are true and injected passionately with love.

I’m looking at the books that I’m leaving behind, waiting. I am going to wake up and move out of this house and out of this bubble. Birth to the world. My room is as blue as ever. It makes me want to stay. These clear walls breathing clear air, looking at me with clear, glass eyes, smelling clean air, clearly, it all makes me want to remain. My remains will remain, though.

Biking while standing up, left out of Forestwood Court. “See you later.” To Sara’s.

I arrived at Sara’s to her father playing the guitar with tinted spectacles, to her sister Katy being fun, and her mother being one of the nicest women ever. Very congratulative (I wish that was a word). So open. So kind. So sincere, and so eager for me, even though we have met under 10 times, maybe 5. Ilka!!!

She and Katy drove my bike to Sara’s work. Sara and I drove to her work, her mother allowing us a chance to chat, since I was later than expected arriving at her house on the Deerhurst. The Deerhurst. Josh is bummed that Sara won’t be at school next year. She was his motivation to get up early to say hello to every morning in between that certain set of locker bays. Against the blue, underneath the fluorescents, bathing in her aura of invitation and of crazy hellos in silly accents. She was tearing, but wasn’t allowing herself to exhale, because she is a trooper. She has a job to do, and is emotional, but isn’t unravelling. You are a champion. You will fit in perfectly, for all the right reasons, in all the right ways.

Katy and Ilka drove me to Shoppers on Appleby and New because that was their destination originally, but were so extremely kind to go out of their ways for our last 5 minutes together. I cannot explain how appreciative I am of this. That’s love. This is real love. My heart.

To Mackenzie’s. His grandfather delightfully answered the door, which made me question whether or not this was Mack’s crib. The garage was filled with bright, blendy colours and babes in bikinis, so yes, this was Mack’s, alongside the drumming in the basement, obviously, perfectly. He showed me the record, and put on the record, that I showed interest in at Paul’s the other evening. He told me about his possibly future endeavors to Concordia for either Photography or a program that involves saving, or conserving the environment. I am so proud of you Mack. When I see you on stage, and then off stage, it feels like you’ve transformed. But you haven’t. The stage is where you are at one with yourself, solo, even if you’re with the band. You’re still you when you come off stage and we get to talking. I realize this now. You are you then, now, and will be forever. Go change the world already!

I biked up Appleby on my used up summer bicycle. I thanked every car that let me pass, and appreciated the streetlights that were on my side, whether they like it or not. I received about 2 or 3 red lights total in the entire trip. This was lovely

I called Jesse immediately. Her, Dave and Paul have been on the hunt for me since my cell phone is all gone and I was later arriving back home than expected. I fixed myself my favourite meal as a child, at least in grade 3 or 4. I called it “Chicken rice and corn mixed up in a bowl with soya sauce with a fork.” In that same bowl, too.

Rushing out the door with it in a to-go container and with a water bottle that had no lid because I was too busy rushing, I had arrived to Jesse’s vehicle, ready to rumble. Jesse, Dave. Me, Mack, Paul. Sunglasses. Blues brothers. Camera. Photo. Photos.

Quarry. The quarry. The rush of the jump. The thrill. The thriving.

How do I feel? I feel like 2 emotions are present, if you can even classify these feelings as emotions, or categories at all. We’ll call one sadness, that won’t dominate, but it’ll remain. It will sometimes be activated, but again, it will not overrule. I cannot veto this out of my life, because it is my life, that was my life, and it’s a little saddening to think of memories that we cannot get back. Memory; it’s there for a while.

The other is excitement. It’s like stepping onto the rock of the cliff more than once, preparing to jump, but getting new nets and sets of butterflies each time you step down to this platform you’ve created for yourself, in your head. It’s not knowing what the next four seconds of your life will be like. And it’s a rush. And you go, and you jump. And you jump like hell.

Goodbye Mackenzie Langton. Until the future.

See you later Dave Shirley.

See you in a bit, Jesse McLellan.

It’ll be weird not seeing you every day, but have fun, Paul Szachlewicz. Take care. I hope you read, love and believe my letter. All of the words.


Chinese food for dinner. Won ton. Moo Goo Gai Pan. $51.20 for entirety. I’m glad my family didn’t order without me this time.

Jesse and Paul came over again so Jesse could pick up her playlist and note.

“Want to hang out for a bit?”
“I’ll get shoes.”

Well well.

“Keep it interesting. That’s all I have to say.”
“Keep it interesting.”

Hi Amanda. How was your summer? I missed you. I miss you. I miss you now. This is surreal. You are the last friend I will see in the summer of two thousand nine. And I’m so very glad it was you, you. It was really nice catching up with you. I want to talk more. There’s no time now though. What’s the future for then, right?

Ab, “Last words?”
Ac, “Have the bestest of fun... And you?”
Ac, “Can’t think?”
Ab, (Thinking) ... “Smile.” (Walks off porch, 2 seconds away from her vanishing from my eyes).

Ab, “See you later.” Smiling.

Ac, “Bye.” Smiling.


One last summer swim. Nestea Plunge. Adam. Adam. He sat in my room with me as I finished packing We exchanged some words, but there was a point where he wasn’t speaking for a little bit. This was okay, and very comforting, his presence, his air.

Bed. 1:25am. Move in day. No count downs. Just... today.

* * *

"To some bagel with that creme cheese, to Baskter, to the Tower of Power, and to a certain Snuggie of mine. It's been a slice. Several actually."

* * *

It is very much so time for me to Burst My Burlington Bubble. And this time it's not with a cake knife. This is truly the end of the beginning.


  1. I love you, you know that? This is one of the most insightful blog posts I have read. I wish you the utmost congratulations and best of wishes as you pursue endeavors at Queens. Hopefully we will meet again at some time. Be sure to keep in touch!


  2. this has been my favourite of all your entries, so far, i believe.

  3. You jerk, you made my eyes go all teary!
    Ps when Shakura and I visit Rebecca, I will be tracking you down!