dearest readers,

(the few of you that you are),

how do you do?

i do hope this finds you well.


it is with some wistfulness (but some excitement) that i bring forth to you the news that i shall be taking a break from my somewhat regular maintenance of my little blog here, for an undetermined amount of time.

i may return when my adventures in france commence, i may not.


it is time to live a little!

it is time to take photographs with film cameras!

it is time for a blog-free life!

my thoughts, really, are as much worth sharing as yours.


of course, and notwithstanding, i remain in contact with those who generally read this anyway.


dear readers, i bid you all a lovely summer, full of joy, full of mystery, and, most importantly, full of adventure.


until next time,

yuan

trout river (almost)

I recently discovered that my camera can take time-lapse videos.

Rodney and I got into Newfoundland on Monday night, and on Tuesday morning we left for Deer Lake to see our great Uncle Bram. We took a 9 hour bus there and back. Uncle Bram and his comrade, Lloyd, took us to Trout River, which is where Uncle Bram grew up in the 20s and 30s before heading off to the war. We are related to lots of folks there. Us Barnes' even have our own store.


He told us what it was like to grow up then, with every member of the family helping to survive and live, to help have the next meal on the table. He is 90 years old.

We were there for a day and took the bus back on Thursday.


By the end of this trip Rodney and I will have traveled about 7000 kilometres.

trout river (almost) from yuan.

time-lapse. ocean.

(A Short Reprise For Mary Todd, Who Went Insane, But For Very Good Reasons - Sufjan Stevens)

rhymes with understand

Newfoundland.

on top of Signal Hill, St. John's

There's so much space here to think it's almost as if there's not enough busy-ness and things going on to keep me all together. One thing that strikes me about the folks here is it seems like they actually care, about me, about you, about whoever. It's nice to be called m'dear and m'love by complete strangers.


I was having a bath today in my lovely Aunt and Uncle's newly renovated bathroom and I thought to myself, wow this is how people used to bathe themselves for a long time, until now! With large puddles of water, and a washcloth. So antiquated, or something. It made me think about how we take showers, and I guess that's cool, because our technology has allowed us to clean ourselves pretty easily and efficiently, standing up and water running down over us and everything.

But what's the point? I mean, I love showers, but I've been relishing the beauty of baths. I was thinking about how we've come up with ways to speed everything up. We've come up with things like showers to have more leisure time, but when we're done showering, what do we end up doing? (... probably just ending up in front of a screen or something like that.)


Anyway, needless to say, I am looking forward one day to owning my own place, maybe, years down the road, and having a great big bathtub with nice bubble baths and nice-smelling candles. And I'll run the water, and lie in the tub. And there'll be so much space, and I'll get used to it, and then, not being so together and efficient all the time, won't be so bad after all.

One of the only places in the world where you can see the earth's mantle, my uncle tells me.

oh, the scenery.

change.

I love it.

I am living in a new house with new people and it's a new season of life.

As I was setting up the kitchen and moving stuff around I told Mike, "it's like I'm playing house, except I'm really living it."




and now, off to Newfoundland I go.....

gravity.

I am packing. In fact, I haven't really started quite yet. (I've been so busy!) I am moving tomorrow, the 30th of April.

I've been taking the little postcards down from my walls and this morning I stuck this bobby pin in this little wad of yellow sticky wall stuff.


A friend told me that our relationships are like silly putty, sometimes. That the ones that last the longest leave the biggest imprint. And the deeper the imprint, the more time it takes for the silly putty to return to its natural form, to fill itself in from that imprint.


It's true. There were only two little holes where I had stuck in the bobby pins from this morning, and I put a few more in after stabbing it again, this afternoon (--while having some stimulating conversation with Bell and Rogers phone/internet folks. Those phone calls always take so long.).

These imprints were, naturally, more shallow. They hadn't had the same time to set in.


So, that's symbolic image of the day. Isn't it kind of beautiful? Things take time to heal. Imprints left from relationships are different depending on the nature and length of the relationship. Some leave a bigger imprint on us than others.


But it's worth it, the waiting and the filling in and the time, are so worth it.

where we grow up

14 Grange Ave. Toronto, Ontario. I lived here until I was 9 years old.

I had never before noticed this crack in the staircase. It must have gotten worse as time went on. My brother said that our dad always wanted to fix it.



The squirrels and our old Chinese neighbours would always eat the cherries off of this tree.

The front door. We hardly used it.

We knew it was a stranger at our door when they would knock on this one.

The side door. This is the one we used almost always.

When we lived there our dad would get rid of the graffiti.

And I saw this almost everyday.

I love my mom. I cannot help but see her in other people. I cannot help but look at strangers, sometimes homeless ones, and think and know, that is someone's mom.

But our mom isn't homeless, not anymore.

I have a story, just like everyone else. And I guess I wouldn't have mine any other way, no matter the pain and the growth and the realness and rawness of a child with parents who did the best they could.

missed connection

On my way to Janessa and Eva's goodbye party, I took the bus. I had decided we were going to decidedly and intentionally bless them as they move on to new chapters of their lives, separate from this school.

How lovely! How wonderful.


It was sunny when I got on the bus. I arrived at the stop early so I sat down on the grass and waited. And I picked the grass a bit, too.

I had on my blue sunglasses and when I got on the bus and finally sat down, I took them off. I didn't need my sunglasses on the bus.

I observed the people around me. Students, of course. Girls with black tights and moccasins. Two men in the back wearing baseball caps and leather jackets.

The man across from me was sitting facing the front of the bus while I was facing the side. I noticed he had nice black hair and darker skin like mine. He had a delicacy about him; he had small wrists. I imagined he was a pretty small guy, maybe my height. He had on thick-rimmed black Ray Bans, grey corduroy pants and I noticed that his ruddy brown belt matched his ruddy brown shoes.

He looked pretty intense doing whatever he was doing. His right knee was up leaning against the seat in front of him. He had a black clipboard with papers that he was writing on and highlighting every so often with a neon yellow highlighter that had a pen on the other end. He appeared to be concentrating pretty hard. He didn't seem to notice me looking at him so I noticed him a little longer.

Then, when we were nearing the university he grabbed the cap of his highlighter from his shirt pocket. I saw him try to put the pen/highlighter back into his pocket and miss a few times, which was a bit amusing. He pulled the yellow cord that requested the bus to stop.

Then, he turned and looked right at me. I looked at him and looked away. It felt a bit weird. But I looked back and he was still looking at me, a bit expectantly, or like he wanted to say something, so I looked right back at him.

He spoke quietly.

"Are you half-asian?"

(what a question!)

Me: "Yes."

"What kind of Asian are you?"

(only fellow Asians can get away with asking questions like that.)

"Half-Chinese. Are you half-Asian?"

"Yeah. Japanese."

Me: "Yeah, I could tell you were mixed."

We rounded the corner to his stop and he started standing up.

"What do you study?"

"Medecine.

(my thoughts: ahh. that explains the concentration and serious vibe he was giving off.)

What do you study?"

"Music."

We'd arrived at his stop. He turned to go.

Me: "Nice to see you."

"You too."


And he left.

do you hear it?

my senses love spring.

speaking of

Yesterday I read in the May/June edition of Adbusters that the average American consumes about 34 gigabytes of media per day, with another studying claiming that 8-18 year old Americans spend 7.5 hours a day consuming media as well. This makes sense, with all of the time we spend looking at screens, and listening to music, too. Of course, we are left to ourselves to unearth the intricacies of how these studies are done, but that's okay, because it's Adbusters. They're such smart and hip folks.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I am glad they exist. I just associate a queasy sort of feeling in the stomach with that magazine, you know. After doing a full read-through of it I can't help but feel a little more intelligent and aware, yet somehow stripped of my innocence, my blindness to all the brainwashing done by "society," "the media" and "big corporations."


Speaking of media consumption, I would see this movie if the opportunity presented itself:



Especially considering the fact that a blog I dig gave it some thumbs up in this post, too. Brett has great taste in movies. I feel like we should be friends, or something. (via Sarah. thanks for posting it!)


Oh, so lovely -- I heard this song at a fundraiser tonight for a project of Leanne's church... of course, we all know it, it's in movies and media all the time. I had never seen it performed live. But do take a listen. It's from Léo Delibes’ opera Lakmé. How lovely.


Sous le dôme épais - Joan Sutherland






.... How many gigabytes has this been?

restless

St. Augustine was a philosopher and theologian who lived from 354 a.d. to 430. That's a long time ago. He was a student of rhetoric until he underwent a sort of transformation and conversion to Christianity after having read an account of the life of St. Anthony. At least, that's what Wikipedia tells me.

This is an excerpt from St. Augustine's Confessions. It's a bit much to wrap the mind around. I highlighted the parts I liked the best. I just think the one misquoted line -- "you are have made us for yourselves, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find themselves in you" -- is terribly profound.

---

Great are you, O Lord, and exceedingly worthy of praise; your power is immense, and your wisdom beyond reckoning. And so we men, who are a due part of your creation, long to praise you – we also carry our mortality about with us, carry the evidence of our sin and with it the proof that you thwart the proud. You arouse us so that praising you may bring us joy, because you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is unquiet until it rests in you.


Grant me to know and understand, Lord, which comes first. To call upon you or to praise you? To know you or to call upon you? Must we know you before we can call upon you? Anyone who invokes what is still unknown may be making a mistake. Or should you be invoked first, so that we may then come to know you? But how can people call upon someone in whom they do not yet believe? And how can they believe without a preacher?


But scripture tells us that those who seek the Lord will praise him, for as they seek they find him, and on finding him they will praise him. Let me seek you then, Lord, even while I am calling upon you, and call upon you even as I believe in you; for to us you have indeed been preached. My faith calls upon you, Lord, this faith which is your gift to me, which you have breathed into me through the humanity of your Son and the ministry of your preacher.


How shall I call upon my God, my God and my Lord, when by the very act of calling upon him I would be calling him into myself? Is there any place within me into which my God might come? How should the God who made heaven and earth come into me? Is there any room in me for you, Lord, my God? Even heaven and earth, which you have made and in which you have made me – can even they contain you? Since nothing that exists would exist without you, does it follow that whatever exists does in some way contain you?


But if this is so, how can I, who am one of these existing things, ask you to come into me, when I would not exist at all unless you were already in me? Not yet am I in hell, after all but even if I were, you would be there too; for if I descend into the underworld, you are there. No, my God, I would not exist, I would not be at all, if you were not in me. Or should I say, rather, that I should not exist if I were not in you, from whom are all things, through whom are all things, in whom are all things? Yes, Lord, that is the truth, that is indeed the truth. To what place can I invite you, then, since I am in you? Or where could you come from, in order to come into me? To what place outside heaven and earth could I travel, so that my God could come to me there, the God who said, I fill heaven and earth?


Who will grant it to me to find peace in you? Who will grant me this grace, that you should come into my heart and inebriate it, enabling me to forget the evils that beset me and embrace you, my only good? What are you to me? Have mercy on me, so that I may tell. What indeed am I to you, that you should command me to love you, and grow angry with me if I do not, and threaten me with enormous woes? Is not the failure to love you woe enough in itself?


Alas for me! Through your own merciful dealings with me, O Lord my God, tell me what you are to me. Say to my soul, I am your salvation. Say it so that I can hear it. My heart is listening, Lord; open the ears of my heart and say to my soul, I am your salvation. Let me run towards this voice and seize hold of you. Do not hide your face from me: let me die so that I may see it, for not to see it would be death to me indeed.

---

Congratulations if you read this far! This has been pretty 'religious.' Sorry, for you folks who don't dig this stuff as much. I just thought I'd put this into context. This particularly resonates with me because I'm such a restless type quite naturally. Always on the lookout for the next best thing. I've always been on the lookout for the thing that appears to give me the most meaning, the biggest thrill, the biggest sense of acceptance, or validation.

But, if I may be so bold to say - on the internet, of all things - that it is only in God, that I have found peace. It is only in bringing praise to God that I have found the deepest joy. It's so life-giving. It's so fun! ...It's so humbling.

I have been restless - I am restless. And it is only where I find myself in God - in all of my being, my desires, my thoughts, my moments, my experiences - that is where I find myself, in full.

in print.

I live. I take photographs with my digital camera. I post them online. I have yet to print any photos I have taken with said camera. This is a sad fact, indeed. Before my Mac dies on me (which I assume it will as anyone I know who's owned a Mac has had this happen to them) I should probably print some of my photographs. Then, I can have them forever.

Isabel, my baby sister, is to die for in this hat. Whatever that means. What I mean to say is that she is dang cute! Laura made that bonnet from scratch; she sewed it herself. I have the best mom.

This is a colleague and friend of mine, Steven Craig. He plays violin. He had a great look that day. I noticed the moustache first, and then the rest of his outfit. Those shoes are great, aren't they?

This is a shameless insertion of myself and my friend Mike. I like that the straws are in focus. And I like going out to dinner with my friends.

I also recently discovered this pretty terrific band, Mumford and Sons, via CHRW as well as my housemate Mira. They are totally pals with Noah and the Whale - who I am going to see in London, UK July 10th with my girls!

This song is great.


Sigh No More - Mumford and Sons

awesome.

London's first ever Car-free day was pretty different in contrast to the Car-free day I experienced in Vancouver last summer. (See image below.) But it was a great first start! Hooray for London, jumping on that bandwagon.

My favourite part was when the woman speaking into the microphone said, "repeat after me, 'GO CAR FREE.'" My friend Matt and I listened, while I sat in the sunshine eating my souvlaki. It was like we were at a rally, or something.



I've had so many ideas for things to say in here lately! But I write almost none of them. I have, however, remembered that I began sharing a list in a previous post. A list of attributes of 'Healthy People,' as deemed by Rod E. Smith. Remember, this is just this guy's opinion. He states that this list is in no way exhaustive. Of course, there are always so many things to learn in life!


Here is the rest of this list:


13. They are regularly involved in hands-on service with people less fortunate than themselves - they serve others.

14. They can follow instructions of others, when necessary, and take on tasks that benefit the community - they are followers.

15. They understand leadership as a role, not as a position, so they lead when it is their function to do so - they are leaders.

16. They know how much they need and do not need others and how much others do and do not need them - they are interdependent.

17. The can identify their own boundaries and become aware of the power and the restrictions of these boundaries - they are self-regulating.

18. They can see clearly that they have both strengths and weaknesses; yet, as much as is possible, they live from their strengths - they are empowered.

19. They achieve their personal and career goals while becoming more intimate with others - they are maturing.

20. They do not expect a problem-free or crises-free life, but through facing smaller problems as they occur, they equip themselves for whatever life brings - they are prepared.

21. They can talk themselves down when anxious, pull themselves together when afraid, gather their internal resources when threatened - they can self-soothe.

22. They can tell the truth to themselves and others - they are honest.

23. They acknowledge the assistance of others in their journey and development - they are humble.

24. They easily accept and indeed enjoy the differences in, and uniqueness, of others - they are tolerant.

25. They feel neither superiority or inferiority in relation to all other people, perceiving themselves as truly equal members of the human community - they are free of prejudice.


--
In other news, I bought three secondhand German books today that I plan on using to help me learn the language. It's one my goals for the summer, to start teaching myself German. Eindrucksvoll.

(in)finite ideas

I have a lot of ideas. When I read things and see things and talk about things, my mind just comes up with ideas. Sometimes it feels like my mind has too many ideas for itself. I get overwhelmed with all of the things that I want to see happen, with the things that I can imagine! Sometimes - quite often, actually - it's really exciting to have so many ideas.

I'm getting back into the groove of ideas. I've been in a phase this last while of my life where ideas haven't been popping up everywhere. I've been a bit afraid of them, or haven't had external inspirations to provoke my natural tendency towards ideas.


But I'm ready.


But I'm even more excited for what's to come beyond my own lofty imaginings and ideals.



My pal Fiona and I were talking the other night, and, between the two of us, we inspire each other, having presumed and presupposed the existence of a God who has a plan and a "will" for our lives. The same idea of a God presented in Christian, Muslim and Jewish faiths - a God who has created humans for a purpose, who knows us intimately and deeply; a God who is the author of romance, who, for all of our ideas, has three million (or infinitely) more; a God who is the source of all joy, of all love, of all creativity. It's so inspiring, it's so beyond us, it's amazing.

Anyway, one thing she said to me really stuck with me, being an ideas-girl and all. In speaking of God's will for our lives - his desire, what he would like to see happen for our lives, having designed us and made us - she said that one way we discern whether or not it is from God is if it is something that we wouldn't think up ourselves.

She was stating that we can often know if occurrences and opportunities in our lives are from God if they are something we wouldn't have thought up. In all of our ideas, perhaps it would've been the last thing we expected.

This doesn't mean that God just surprises us just for the sake of it, I don't think. What this means, I think, is that it's a wake-up call to the fact that if this presumed God does know all, then his ways are inherently higher than ours. It's like that analogy of a father, I guess. That as children sometimes we want that cookie from the cookie jar, when our "heavenly Father" says to us, "nope, not yet, we're having dinner in an hour and a half." And we had no idea or had forgotten about dinner until he told us.


It's perspective.

The big picture!


What a relief that even in all of my ideas there is something more. Even in all of my ideas I will constantly be surprised and be humbled by the fact that I don't know everything, that I couldn't just think of it myself.

old folks

After a studio dinner post-master class on Monday night (you know what those things are, now!) I went grocery shopping on my way home from campus. I got off at the Oxford and Richmond stop and as I was crossing the crosswalk I saw the most lovely-looking elderly couple.

If you didn't know, I love seeing elderly couples walking around, together, on buses, traveling, sitting, just being near each other. I love all of the stories that their faces tell, I love imagining the lives they've lived, the things, the pains, the joys they must've experienced together.

They were slowly and carefully making their way across the crosswalk when I looked at them and remembered that I had my camera. I follow this one blog that documents the fashion and style of older folks and I've been inspired but haven't yet had the opportunity to snap some shots myself of some of my own ... subjects. We had a red light together and I said to them, "You are such a beautiful couple! Can I take a picture of you?"

The small woman, named Anne, had some sort of British accent and said, "No one's ever told us that before! Of course you can take a photo!" They posed for the camera and asked me if I was at the university. I told them I was studying music, and the man, who introduced himself as Fred, asked me if I knew Ingrid Gan. I said that I didn't and he said that she was this year's recipient of the pretty prestigious Fred Pattison Piano Competition.

Immediately it dawned on me and I asked him, "Are you Fred Pattison?" And he said, "why, yes, I am," and I was surprised! Of course, perhaps few outside of the school let alone our tiny music faculty would've heard of the competition or of him, but of course, being in this little sub-culture, it was a bit of a lovely surprise to have just snapped a shot of such a clearly reputable and philanthropic man!

He claims to have lived "the most fascinating life," as stated in this article that I found.


What a lovely couple. I can only hope that one day my wrinkles tell many stories and that I will walk a slower pace in life, too.


Also, I found this new single by the New Pornographers. It is good the first listen, at least. I haven't decided how I feel about it after the following listens.


Crash Years - The New Pornographers

April the 6th

It's raining awfully hard here today.


Today is the day where Chris said he was going to that one ten-day program at CAMH. I am thinking about him and wondering how things will turn out for him. I wish I could've gotten his contact information, or even his last name.


Also, man, I like lists. I am reading this book that I have, for the second time, borrowed from my parents. It's called Open Hand: Pursuing Courageous Relationships and it's written by Rod E. Smith, who is a family therapist, a writer, a speaker as well as a columnist for The Indianapolis Star.

It's literally a smorgasbord of articles, stories, lists, ideas, about sociology, humans, us, healing, relating to one another, transformation, all of that. And he talks about God, too.



I found this list and I wanted to share it. It's called 'Characteristics of Healthy People,' (mature, or differentiated, also being words that, in this case, could replace the word 'healthy'). It's long, so here is half of the list; I can share the rest later:



1. They can relate to and relax with people of all ages, races and persuasions - they are accepting.

2. They can mourn after disappointments and losses and, after a time, rise up and face similar challenges again - they are resilient.

3. They have done what is possible to understand their childhood and, despite past trauma, take responsibility for what they are becoming - they are responsible.

4. They are humoured by their own foibles and saddened by cruelty they see around them, but they do not lose hope - they are optimistic.

5. They are aware of the pattern of the cycle of life and they welcome the transitions from each to each - they are growing.

6. They are eager to learn about other people, relationships, life and the world - they are engaged.

7. They can enter the world and the experience of another, listen, appreciate and value without passing judgment, offering advice or modifying what they want to see - they are intimate.

8. They have a few friendships of mutual vulnerability and deeper intimacy with one other person - they know others and are known.

9. They are involved in mutually satisfying relationships with immediate and extended family and have a rich family of choice - they are connected.

10. They are at peace more than they are unsettled, they can be calm in a crisis and can go without company when it is necessary - they are anchored.

11. They live and love deeply, they learn to trust and forgive easily - they are passionate.

12. They can listen to others without speaking, and from the multiple voices around and within them, they can distinguish the voice of the same and deliberate self - they are listeners.

the future . . .

is decidedly exciting. And it has been a while since I typed in here. Sometimes real life takes priority over life created on screens. Though, it seems life seen through screens is quickly becoming reality. But that's another blog post.

This summer(!) I am going to St. John's, Newfoundland for a week, France for two months, and possibly roadtripping from Vancouver to Portland, Oregon, for a weekend.

In the beginning of May my brother and I are being flown to St. John's by our Aunt Laura (and the plane, too, of course). It's going to be so good, because we know hardly anything about our family beyond our biological parents, and it's going to be good to go back to the homeland .... I've heard there's moose everywhere and that Newfies are quirky and super nice. I am looking forward to good conversations with Rodney, and other folks, too.


Then, there's the possibility (and hope) of finding some wicked seat sales to Vancouver for mid-June, then taking a roadtrip with my pals Kari and Claire to visit our friend Mika -- she's finishing highschool and it's her graduation party! Graduation parties are a much bigger deal to Americans than Canadians. I love the excuse to get together. Keeping my fingers crossed for some sweet deals!


Then. France.

I've been wanting to go to a French-speaking country since I was about 10 or 11. I was always jealous of kids who got to do exchanges and things like that. I looked into working and studying in France, but it can be so expensive! I volunteered with YWAM in Vancouver last summer, and that's who I will be staying and working with this summer. I'm leaving end of June and I'll come back end of August.

I am going to be staying in a little village an hour and a half east of Paris. I will be helping with whatever I can, cleaning, cooking, translation. They'll be running some kids' camps in August. There's a two-week mission trip to Paris in the middle of July. We'll be using art, music, drama, dance, etc. to initiate conversations about spirituality. "Mission work" in France is going to look a bit different than what would be done in a country like Congo.


of course, my head is already planning beyond this summer, too. But anything past 2010 is just speculation. But so exciting, nonetheless.

My mom proposed the idea this past weekend of doing a 6-month school with YWAM in the time I have between graduating 4th year in 2011 and teacher's college. YWAM is big on mentoring and intentional discipleship in the context of serving others. They have this sort of introductory 6-month program they do called Discipleship Training School (DTS). For 3 months you stay at one of their many, many bases around the world and you learn about character, integrity, compassion; you are challenged to grow, to learn about yourself and others and God, and you make friends all over the world, too. Then, for the other months you do what they call 'outreach' -- you simply put into practice everything you have been learning, in a different context and generally in a different culture, in hopes to stretch and challenge you and, ideally, to give your mind a bigger picture of what's going on in the world.

Wouldn't that be crazy? Ideas come and go in my head, but some of them stick, and then I make them happen. Whether it's with YWAM, or doing a DTS, or doing something else entirely, I am pretty sure something exciting is in the works for the future....


it's decidedly an exciting time to be alive.

enumerate

NB: Every teacher in our music faculty that gives private music lessons to students has their own studio, their own roster of students that they teach. Each week their studio meets for what we call master class, a formal time to come together for at least an hour and perform for each other the pieces that we are working on. I wrote this today in mine.



Masterclass is a time and a place where we have the privilege of playing for other piano students -- students who partake in this action, this art, this music-creating. When I practice, when I sit in a practice room for hours, why wouldn't I want to think about my listener?

Why wouldn't I want to play well -- to my capacity? Why would I want to fill the gas tank only half if I can fill it? Why would I just want to have half of the colours that are available on the palette? Why breathe in only half of the air that I need?

--No. There's more than that; it's a choice that we make as artists, to be apathetic, or not. Or to prioritize things over piano playing. I mean, I suppose much of what we do in life is like that.

What I love about music-making, about conducting, about piano playing, is there is always something that will challenge me, if I accept it. You know? There's always so much left to learn.

And it's a constantly humbling thing.

life + links

I'm not quite sure how to follow a post like that last one. It's true, it's a pretty crazy story. Life is happening, and if you're curious about an update about me, well, I am in the middle of working through some thoughts of figuring out what I really want, what I need, and who I am. Those are pretty important things to our lives, I reckon.

Perhaps on a more surface level I have some small yet potentially slightly interesting things to share.

I am really excited for Born Ruffians' album, Say It, to drop in June. They've released a single, Sole Brother, and man it is good. I like their music to begin with, and it's great to see them sticking with the awesomeness that works, but also to see them going in a different direction.


Sole Brother - Born Ruffians


Isn't it fun? It just makes me want to turn the lights off and shake my hips.
(Yes, that is a reference to the Unicorns' Tuff Luff.)

I'm also growing out my hair. (I buzzed it in September.) It's in an in-between stage. I found some shots of Tegan and Sara doing a photoshoot with Spin magazine. I've always thought they had pretty good hair but I am especially liking their latest look.

photo by Darren Ankenman

I also have been listening to the soundtrack that accompanied a book I began reading in Québec, but never finished, Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt's Ma Vie Avec Mozart, (My Life with Mozart). Schmitt's book is a memoir and homage to Mozart; how his music helped to transform him throughout his life, throughout emotional and artistic trials. It's a great soundtrack.

My last link to share is this video. It is the opening track of the album. I've never been an opera girl but this aria, from The Marriage of Figaro, is absolutely beautiful, breathtaking, exquisite. Best listened to on full speakers. Mozart is great to study and do work to.


Ahh, life.

a story.

He was disheveled and anxious when he came up to me on Friday, asking for money.

I was sitting in the London VIA Rail station when he came around the corner, asking other sitting people if they had any change to spare. He asked several people but they shook their heads and they disappeared behind their newspapers and their cellphones.

He had on a baseball cap with medium-brown hair trailing out from underneath it, grazing his shoulders. His eyes looked small behind his thick glasses. He carried a small duffel bag and his jeans were loose-fitting. He wrung his hands when he talked.

I saw him coming and I knew I was going to give him money. He stood before me and I listened to him. He asked me if I had any spare change to help him get a ticket to Stratford. I looked right at him asked him why, then realized it was none of my business, but he proceeded to say that he needed to see his girlfriend that night and had to catch the train at 6 o'clock. I asked him how much the ticket cost and he said "twenty-one fifty." I asked him his name and Chris watched me pull out my wallet and give him twenty dollars. My housemate had just paid me for her portion of the phone and internet bill that day.

I couldn't tell, I didn't know if he was lying or if he was telling the truth. He was filling the air with his words, telling me about a job he just lost and that he needed to find a new one once he went back to Stratford. I handed him the bill and said to him, "I hope you spend it well."

He left very quickly after I gave him the money, saying thank you as he walked away. I told Jesse about it when he picked me up and I had a feeling that he didn't end up using the money for a train ticket. That was on Friday the 19th.


I got into London tonight around 8pm and as I walked out of the station, to my surprise, I saw Chris again. I was walking out as he was walking in and he had with him the same duffel bag. The wordless thoughts that formed in my head knew that he had never gone to Stratford. I greeted him and he seemed equally surprised to see me. I asked him if he was able to make it to Stratford at all and he said no, but that he had gotten a job that would start April 6th. For a split second I considered asking him, "are you lying to me?" but I didn't. He remembered my name and said that he hardly ever remembered names and as I walked away I said, "I'm so happy for you, Chris." I heard him mention surprise that I had remembered his name and we parted ways.


He chased me and he found me and he talked to me. I was barely a block from the train station when he stopped me, huffing and puffing, saying in between gasps that he's been trying to stop lying and that he knew he saw me again for a reason and that I would know in a second why all of it made sense.

He talked a mile a minute, he told me that when I gave him twenty dollars on Friday that he did use it to buy opiates and he apologized for lying, that there was something about the way I talked to him that made him feel 'careable.' He told me that he was surprised by the the guilt he felt even after he hit up after talking to me because the opiates normally numb all of his negative feelings. He told me that opiates aren't like any other drugs - he said he's been addicted to morphine, to crystal meth (a cheap hit that lasts a long time, he says) LSD, PSP, but he could never get addicted to crack-cocaine. It's an expensive habit.

Chris said that he asked me for money because he refuses to steal for his addiction and that he cops have been coming down hard on panhandling. He apologized over and over for lying. I listened, earnestly. He told me that opiates are different than all other drugs because they are physically addicting and that there is only one place in all of Ontario that has a treatment centre capable of handling it, because there is only a 1% rate of people successfully coming clean to opiates without the help of medication. You need medication to come off of opiates.

He talked a mile a minute, telling me that withdrawal from opiates is unlike any other drug, similar to what you see in the movie Trainspotting, minus the hallucinations of babies crawling on ceilings. He described things I don't even know how to type in here. He told me that he had to lie so that I would give him money but that it's something that his body literally needs now to survive. His body on opiates is now normal. He didn't want me to feel that my twenty dollars went to nothing. He said so much, about how rampant crystal meth is in the city of Stratford and how he's going back there after finally getting into this 10-day treatment centre in Toronto, because there he has support and he emphasized that he will be able to find a job there.


Chris said that he is 31. He is intelligent. In him I see a human with loads of potential, a human who has been a character in a story, doing the best with what he has, living the best story possible that he knows for himself. I asked him if he knows God and he used many words to respond, talking about metaphysics and physics, a God that isn't 'he', a form of religion that he has come up with himself. I told him I would keep him in my prayers.

He is going to Toronto's CAMH 10-day medical withdrawal program on April 6th. He hopes to go to Stratford after that and find a job. He says he fears being surrounded by the crystal meth but also doesn't crave it, either. Early in the conversation I offered for us to sit down and talk but he said he was already late for the nightly curfew at the shelter.


I don't know why we saw each other again tonight but I am really glad that he chased me and that he found me and that he talked to me. I am glad that he confessed what he felt like he needed to confess; our words have much meaning. As were saying goodbye to each other he told me there was something about the fact that I said, "I hope you spend it well." I can't ever know what will become of him, but I pray that he is pulled into a better story. A story that allows him to fully live, because he said himself that his addictions and the drugs depress him. A story that realizes this one human being to their potential, because this one human life is so worth it.

better

There's no more snow around here, anymore.

Things are coming alive again, after being asleep for what feels like a long time.

With each day from now on we are gaining about 2 minutes and 52 seconds more daylight time, and I think that is pretty cool.


I like that the number is exact, it is perfect.


There's never been a better time than now for renewal, for change. For yawning and stretching and things being broken and then fixed again, in completely unexpected, yet better ways.

no clean / clean

Another shot of some dead fish, similar to one I took in Vancouver. These ones have teeth.
I found them in Toronto.

I like them.

between

I guess we feel alone some days and others, not.

I haven't felt particularly surrounded by community as of late but I know it's just for now, it won't always feel like this. Catch me this time tomorrow night and I'm sure I'll feel better.

I've been thinking a lot lately, about my future, about this life we live, being small fragments in a pretty big world, (music) education and its purpose, how I dress myself and what this means for my identity (and whether or not it really matters), me & Jesse, how I would really like to spend more time reading and creating art, what it means to be constantly renewed and transforming, all of that.

One of the things I've been realizing and simultaneously mourning is the fact that moving into my 20s requires me to mature. My life thus far has included all-knowing and all-powerful adults who do the decision-making, who teach, who guide. They know what food to buy, who does what and at what time everything in life happens.

I am simply realizing that I am becoming one of those adults.

It's up to me to make decisions, to teach, to guide. To shape the futures of others around me.


What I mourn is the loss of a sense of self, an old self, a younger self. A self that doesn't mind being given expectations and instructions. Now, I am challenged to give them to others myself. And I want to do things well. The end product will be worth it but the transition into that has proven ... challenging.


but, it's cool, because the point is the process, you know?

iii/ix

maybe it's just too honest to say but sometimes, I feel so alone.

March 6 pt. ii

I went home over spring break and my mom had some leftover quiche that was pretty dang good. So, I have been inspired ever since and I've been hankering to make my own!

I found an excellent recipe online and I approached Leanne in choir this past week and told her that we needed to make quiche together sometime very soon! So, we did, with Janessa, too.


I made the mistake of buying graham cracker crust - simply because that was the only kind of pre-made pie crust the store had - and it ended up cracking. But we made it work...

"ACTION SHOT!" Leanne caramelized those shallots.

I was cracking the eggs when....

I found THIS EGG. WEIRD. (see video below for behind the scenes action)

Spinach, sun-dried tomato, parsley.... yum.

Some Pillsbury mini-croissants for appetizers.

This is our quiche, pre-cooked.

Did I mention that we ended up eating at around 11:30pm? We were so hungry we completely forgot to take pictures of our completed work. But it was good, man. And quiche makes great leftovers. I recommend it, especially with good company, good music and good conversation.

nothin' to do

I've always loved this song.

Since I first heard it, of course.


No Bold Villain - Timber Timbre


oh, hey! It's Jesse, with some Jam Jams. My friend Leanne makes them and they're really good.


I am really thankful for the three things mentioned in the two sentences that precede this one.

pretty weird, I guess

feels like it's been a while since I wrote in here.

I've had an idea or two, but none that I deemed worth the effort and time to sit down and share. this one today, though, is particularly noteworthy.

Thank you to the sidebar on tumblr for this one.


it's called:

50 Incredibly Weird Facts About the Human Body


my commentary:

Number 8 is of particular interest considering the fact that my boyfriend, Jesse, seems to be able to remember anything and everything. This gives me hope.

Number 13 and 14 are dang true! I can remember smells of shampoos and perfume like no other. Maybe not 50 000, though.

Number 17 is kind of weird.

Not too sure about number 20....... and number 34 is just too cliche.

Number 39 is sad, because, well, I think toes are okay.

to, Jesse, re: body hair. (see number 42) OKAY YOU'RE RIGHT.


ah, and number 50. One of many things that separates us from animals. Some would say 'we are all one', but I don't see any animals cooking with recipes or questioning the meaning of life or shedding tears over any reason beyond physiological ones.



hooray for being alive and for being human!

observations.

so, I have been experimenting lately.

Everyday for this past week I have decided to intentionally start and end my days with talking to God. for fellow Christians, lingo like this is ordinary. nothing special. But for those non-God fearin' folks, lingo like that is kinda weird.

I am aware of that. And I am still putting it on the internet.

it's been so cool!

The reason why I wouldn't do this before is because I'd wake up in the morning, all groggy and then I'd think for a few moments, listening to the French CBC station on my radio, then hop up, open my laptop, check the weather and then be on with the rest of my morning routine. I'd talk to God if I needed to, or something.

I would pray more at night. I would be falling asleep, lately with candles (dangerous!), and maybe thank God for some nice things in my life, or some nice conversations.

I'd say about half of the time lately, though, I would maybe not even talk to God. I generally live life pretty intensely, so it's like, I would build up my need to pray. Then, every now and then it'd all come gushing out, tears and all, me, in my room alone, talking to the air, talking to the silence, finding solace and comfort in having my spoken thoughts lead me down a rabbit-trail of my search for unselfishness, wisdom, and goodness.


that's okay, too.


but I've been experimenting lately, intentionally talking to God in the morning, thanking him for the day, asking him to fill me with patience, to see beauty in everything around me.


it changes my days. Because sometimes I go to class and when there's a kid in my violin class who doesn't learn the bowing as fast as me and wants to share my music and my stand, well, I can get a little impatient.

I was on the bus the other day and I looked around at people I'd never seen before and would most likely never see again. I looked at specific people and there was a really interesting looking girl and I thought, "wow, she is beautiful." Then, I looked at a guy yawning and I thought similar thoughts about him. I looked around and I saw beauty in the strangers that surrounded me. My heart started to beat a little faster, and I felt it.


The moment left me soon after, of course. But it's striking, how it changes my days.

in image

it's crazy that the end of February is almost here.

it really just seems like this term of the school year just started.




today I got out several recordings of a Schubert piece I am working on.




I need to step my game up if I want to do well on my jury in April.


Being pretty busy is nice. Luckily, there are always moments that make us stop, and appreciate the little things in life.

febuary the 16th

How blessed is the man who finds wisdom,

And the man who gains understanding.
For her profit is better than the profit of silver,
And her gain than fine gold.

She is more precious than jewels;
And nothing you desire compares with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
In her left hand are riches and honour.

Her ways are pleasant ways,
And all her paths are peace.
She is the tree of life to those who take hold of her,
And happy are all who hold her fast.
The Lord by wisdom founded the earth;
By understanding he established the heavens.

By his knowledge the deeps were broken up,
And the skies drip with dew.

february the 13th

I am in Ottawa and the people are friendlier here than in London. It is a nice city.

It seems pretty hip now or something, but I'm pretty sure I would really like to have and play an autoharp one day:

Oh, and tomorow is Valentine's Day or something?

That's okay, I guess.


At least, my friend Emily gave me a some v-day love via this post on her blog.
With a morning snapshot of me with some tea in my PJ's, no less.

What a swell start to the holiday!

oh.

How astutely my piano teacher observes, "Yuan, you only put effort into the things you care about." As if this is some sort of sickness.

How else should I be?

She talks about how anything that I find hard to overcome seems to be impossible for me to tackle because of some kind of mental roadblock I have. It's like she is noticing what countless teachers have told me growing up.

That I have so much potential.

If only I just tried. If only I cared.

How do I make myself work for something that I don't care about? Does that mean I just care about everything?

Because I figure, I should probably just spread my care into all of the important things. But what are the things from which I take my already given care? What do I even care about?

Something about all of this reminds me of my foster mom's, Laura's, notion of character. The things we do regardless of how we feel. Our actions that reveal our maturity, that reveal the parts of who we are that never change.

It's tough, man.

How do I grow more into who I need to be? Who is it that I need to be?

february the 8th

Seems like everyone has fashion blogs these days. My theory is that the only things you really need to look kind of hipster and cool on the internet are a friend who is willing to take lots of pictures of you, some good finds from thrift stores and then, a tasteful eye for clothing combinations.

My friend Quinn has sweeeet style. (extra e's for emphasis.) She lent me some nice little items this weekend. I am thankful.

I wore the little animal print dress she lent me and paired it with the red knit cardigan I just got for 7 bucks from Goodwill this past weekend. I got these nice boots from a super cool vintage store in Toronto, too. It's great because they are lined and therefore pretty warm. And, of course, it being winter and all, it's necessary that I don the faux-fur vintage Parisien bonnet I got for 2 bucks from Talize. I almost didn't buy it! I am so glad I did. I swear it's only because of the hat that I got stopped by this fashion blogger, who saw me on campus the other day and proceeded to snap a few shots of me for me this entry.

here's that classic effortless hipster-blogging "candid" pose.

hah!


you know, I love fashion and clothes. And I love bright colours.

All you need sometimes is a pal who's willing to snap a few shots. And then you put them on the internet and the world is a hopefully a better place.