i'm sorry

*sung in a catching melodic swing of music*
you are going to h.ate me....

--------------
I did it AGAIN - yes I did.....

if you all wouldn't mind....please change ALL links on ALL web pages..
I have changed my blog addy one last time....I cannot forsee and changes coming in the future...and I finally wrote a page that looks okay....
- well I am excited -

Follow this link if you want to read my posts.

LADYRAEH

I really do hope to see you there....

the rythmn of grief (in progress)

the ebb and flow of grief, waves
- strength increasing with every roll -
pounding my weakened heart
taunting me with the depth of memory.

Each crash into my being; waiting for a response.
What will my heart handle?
Journey again on these waves so strong?
Another day lost in the moon lit ocean?
Memories...laughter...joy...
roll into my mind,
slide into the corners,
drip onto my awareness.

Who knew memories would call out of dark a light?
Who knew tides of grief would call forth such might?

The faithful crash of this ebb and flow,
the rythmn of grief,
the motion of time,
the journey's of the heart.

distinctive

I find it remarkable that mornings have that distinctive "morning feel" about them. Regardless whether it is cool, rainy, hot, quiet, loud, or just subtle...they all have the same "air" about them.

This morning must have been the first morning all summer that I have actually risen from my bed at the time I intended too the night prior. With grand hopes I set my alarm clock falling asleep to the mantra in my head "get up when it goes off Rachel" - of course as soon as my alarm does resound with annoying beeps I (quick as lightening of course)hit the snooze button with ease and grace befitting a karate elite (which I will be one day...you wait and see)

This graceful action of hitting my snooze button naturally lasts for around an hour or so - displaying my astounding ability remain sleeping while at the same time hitting the snooze button faithfully. (this last point was proved during the school year as I had an alarm clock that went off every FOUR MINUTES - just think of the skill invovled with hitting that thing for over an hour before getting out of bed)

I was up because I had to fulfill my role as Gas Jockey. Walking to work I was blown away by the "morning"-ness of the morning. I was nearly deafened by the birds, which was odd. I mean normally they are loud - but this morning they were hollering at one another - not waiting for one to stop but rather displaying their ability to interrupt each other at will.

I have always "known" that I was to be a "morning" person. Every morning that I actually manage to be up for I know it, I feel it. It is very frustrating - especially in light of above mentioned getting up issue.

I am going to the movie Madagascar (is that how you spell it?)
I am looking forward to it - it looks like a sauna full of laughs.

(thx for stopping by Mr. SBVP - I do believe that I know who you are. Hope your summer is smashin' Ciao)

some hamlet

Becaues I have nothing of substance to say I thought I would let Willie take over - here is some Hamlet for you folks:

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, (135)
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months : nay, not so much, not two: (140)
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, (145)
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month
-- Let me not think on't -- Frailty, thy name is woman!
--A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow'd my poor father's body, (150)
Like Niobe, all tears: -- why she, even she --
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules: within a month: (155)
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not nor it cannot come to good: (160)
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer (65)
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks (70)
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, (75)
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, (80)
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life, (85)
But that the dread of something after ,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of? (90)
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry, (95)
And lose the name of action.-- Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

memories

It is hard to know what to do with memories.
Some moments leave you speechless, overwhelmed and in awe. Others leave you emotionally drained, confused, and hurt. I find it an amazing reality that we live in. Memories randomly attack us, fly out of that forgotten corner like a bat in a cave and we are usually helpless to the attack.

Often however, we don't mind because the sweetness, beauty, and warming depth of the moment soothes us, surprises us with its reality, and charges us for the beauties and memories that lie ahead.

I know that the time I spent in Winnipeg was a time that changed my life. Everything from the jobs I held, the people I worked with, the church(es) I attended, the experiances, wipe outs, regrets, and breathless moments - they are all such a deep part of me. Wound into every stitch of who I am and who I am growing into. That is an unsettling thought.

Lately every moment my mind has to wander it wanders to my memories of my time in Winnipeg. I feel helpless in the wake of them. The friendships, the tears, the growth, the humour, the mind bending, heart tearing, physically demanding, emotionally exhausting adventure that changed - and will continue to change - my life.

I love where I am at now - I really do - but I cannot express the longing of my soul to remain in my memories - the good ones and the bad ones - I want to return, I have every since I left and yet I know that I am here and am supposed to be here. What a frustrating position! Why was my time there so speacial? How is it that I am so wrecked for that place, those people?

If any people from my time in Winnipeg still read this blog - know that I love and miss your friendship and company more than expression allows.

restless

It was the type of restlessness that permeates everything that makes you who you are. It gets into every tendon, breath, and toe until you realize that you can't do anything about it. Festers is an appropriate word - the feeling festers, nothing really helps and you are left to yourself.

Walking in circles doesn't help, workin' out doesn't help, TV definately doesn't help however it does delay the feeling nicely for a while *wink*.

I did what only you can do living in a small town - I drove. I hit the back roads and left. Somehow when I am able too hit the backroads I always find abandoned farm yards it is like I gravitate towards them. What beautiful things; how exciting.

This yard I found had two buildings that looked like houses and a tonne of busted down vehicles and such kickin' around. Oh it was wonderful. The explorer/adventure in had my adrenaline pumping - I could have spent the evening there easily.

Thankfully I scare easily and could only handle a small exploration around this yard. You see as I kid I have seen and felt and been aware of way too many things that aren't necessarily in the physical realm so walking around alone, through buildings that were very old and on the edge of falling down gave me just enough sense to not linger and distrub anything that was - you know, kickin' around.

Coming back into town I just parked down on the back road and watched the sun set. I realized that something deep in me (probably because I am from saskatchewan) is that I need to be connected to the earth - if I am not in nature I loose my mind, something in me unhinges and I am not a balanced person. My OCD kicks up and I can't control anything.

So it was nice to be in nature, out on a dirt road south of town watching the sun set, watching the shadows of clouds play over eston in the horizon......ahhh....I realy love the praries.

friday

This has got to be on of the most anticipated fridays I have ever had in my life. There really isn't any special reason, except that this week has been so packed with work both cleaning dorms and at the Coop, that when today - friday - hit I realize that
a) I don't work at the Coop from 5pm - 8pm today like I have been for the last three days and
b) I don't have to get up and work at the Coop all day tomorrow
What an exciting Friday.

I really do not have any complaints. I would much rather be working and working hard than not working at all. The last time I did manual labour was in Wpg and I was cleaning houses. Even though your body just takes a beating - there is nothing like the feeling of coming home just wasted because you have worked hard that day. Even though you have a million things to do when you get home those few minutes of rest that pop up randomly are sweet and pleasurable.

I really love the contrasts of life. I mean you don't really appreciate what it means to rest until you have been in a place of hardwork, termoil or unrest. You don't really know how deep love is until you have walked beside greif, you don't really understand how brilliant the light is until you have been in the darkness....

Of course that all is pretty obvious to you readers, but those types of balances that we all have to walk in life are what make life exciting, hard, interesting, wonderful, burdensome....