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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