:: Tuesday, February 04, 2003 ::

Same Old, Same Old... and damn do I like it

As I flung open the door to my room a wall of warmth met me. It rushed out like a horse bolting from the starting line, smelling strongly of incense and tea. My little white Christmas lights twinkled at me from behind my prayer flags (which I love despite the fact that they serve no purpose indoors) and the recently returned sunlight seeped in around the edges of the dark sarong I employ as a curtain, only slightly illuminating the dark blues and greens that make up my room. My computer sang Ani Difranco at me and for the first time in forever my room: a) is relatively clean; b) contains plants that are actually green and healthy; c) smells good and d) has a bed that is made.

As much as the residence scene doesn't do it for me, and as much as I hate UBC Housing, I really love this little room. As claustrophobic as I can be, I don't like big bedrooms. It always just seems like a waste of space, or more room to make a mess. I like the feeling of sitting in my warm little nook with my tea and my music and my books. I guess it's kind of womb-like. Comforting. Secure.

The weather has suddenly taken a turn for the better so I strapped on my rollerblades and braved the hill down to Spanish Banks with my friend Kate. I figured out the hard way that the guy at Comor put my brake on improperly when he rotated my wheels, but once I hit the pavement a few times I adapted. We got down to the beach and it was fantastic, such a different kind of environment than Wreck beach despite its close proximity. Amazing long stretches of sand. It's a little too developed though. All the logs were lined up like church pews and the whole beach was fenced in by parking lots. But you can't develop the ocean. It was still there, strong and resplendent, and it was as if it was taunting us, begging us to try and master it.

The trip back up the hill was intense, not too steep but definately pointing out to my body that as of late I haven't made it do anything but sit around, drink tea and read. I think this little weight-loss trend I've been experiencing the last couple of months has fooled me into thinking that I've done something to deserve it. Needless to say I'm a little bit sore today but I'm heading back out there again in an hour. There's nothing like deep lungfulls of fresh air to make my essay seem more bearable.

Now that I'm finished that classic piece of Canadian fiction I get to pick up Rushdie again. I've got my tea beside me. It's a good day.


listening: Alma - What's This?
reading: Haroun & The Sea of Stories - Salman Rushdie
watching: nada

:: Katy 2:22 p.m. [+] :: ::