Vancouver seemed quiet this morning. When I got off the bus I was immediately enveloped in sound and sight and a vibe that only exists on Imagine Day. First years awkwardly following a leader holding a sign, people yelling in megaphones, tents, companies, and music everywhere. Now that I'm in my fourth year the first day of school isn't as overwhelming as it used to be. I was I could say that my memories of Imagine Day are bright and vivid, but really they're very vague and muddled. What I do remember about my first day? I remember it being overwhelming. I remember thinking that I would NEVER be able to get everything out of UBC. There was so much there. So many clubs, so many buildings, so many classes, so many people. Each year it felt less and less like that. Like maybe I made wrong choices. I got involved with UCM really early, in my third week in fact. I gave 4 years of university to that club. At the beginning of every year I would think "maybe I should try something new?" Or in the case of my major and my career paths. At the start of every year I would think "maybe I should get involved with this thing or that to network? Maybe I should go global? Maybe Co-op?" This morning I went to an info session for history majors (I went for free pizza) and I realized that lots of the opportunities were tailored to third years. I am past that. What my goal is now is to study hard for 8 more months and then I will graduate.
Yes, I will graduate in May 2011. Provided I don't mess it up.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
On Music and City Lights
I'm learning to let music wash over me.
I actually wrote a blog a few days ago that I never published. It was too whiney. I did the most proactive thing I could think of: I wandered away.
Now that I don't live on campus I'm exploring Vancouver more. It feels like there's this countdown clock running and soon it will expire and I won't be a UBC student anymore. Who knows where I'll be? So I've learned to wander.
I often wander to Queen Elizabeth Park which is very near my apartment. I like climbing up to the pinnacle of the park. When I'm there I perch on the ledge and gaze at the city. I find the Vancouver skyline intoxicating. When I lived on campus, seeing the city was rare. In my old apartment I could press my face to the glass and stare at the tip top of the Scotiabank Tower. But that was the extent of my view. Now I climb the stone ledge and suck the city into my lungs. If I'm going to leave this city in 8 months I want to be so oversaturated with the sight of it that I will see it when I close my eyes. I don't want the sting of regret. I want to know that I breathed and lived and poured myself into this life.
Today I wandered to the park and found an old man with a beat up telecaster and a small amplifier in a plastic bag. He wasn't busking, he was playing the blues. I sat on the bench next to him and gave myself over to the music. Some people are able to let music wash over them. As for me, I'm constantly looking for a way to involve myself in it, but today I just let myself experience music.
I actually wrote a blog a few days ago that I never published. It was too whiney. I did the most proactive thing I could think of: I wandered away.
Now that I don't live on campus I'm exploring Vancouver more. It feels like there's this countdown clock running and soon it will expire and I won't be a UBC student anymore. Who knows where I'll be? So I've learned to wander.
I often wander to Queen Elizabeth Park which is very near my apartment. I like climbing up to the pinnacle of the park. When I'm there I perch on the ledge and gaze at the city. I find the Vancouver skyline intoxicating. When I lived on campus, seeing the city was rare. In my old apartment I could press my face to the glass and stare at the tip top of the Scotiabank Tower. But that was the extent of my view. Now I climb the stone ledge and suck the city into my lungs. If I'm going to leave this city in 8 months I want to be so oversaturated with the sight of it that I will see it when I close my eyes. I don't want the sting of regret. I want to know that I breathed and lived and poured myself into this life.
Today I wandered to the park and found an old man with a beat up telecaster and a small amplifier in a plastic bag. He wasn't busking, he was playing the blues. I sat on the bench next to him and gave myself over to the music. Some people are able to let music wash over them. As for me, I'm constantly looking for a way to involve myself in it, but today I just let myself experience music.
This man had clearly seen more life than I have so far and the notes that came out of that small amp were filled with stories. There were no words. Only sound.
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