Looking foreward instead of back

Once again, we find another year coming to a close. This time last year I was in Seattle, surrounded by friends- and now I find myself on a bus half way to Calgary, with New Years festivities awaiting me on the other side.  I have a strange... policy, you could say.  I won't be at home for New Years.  So despite the fact that I was working tonight, I decided it was still necessary to hop on a bus and switch cities for the evening.  This year has brought about a lot of change, to say that least.  In hindsight, I think it was a year of testing.  When I ventured to Seattle one year ago, I remember feeling like I was barely keeping my head above water.  Drowning in schoolwork and emotion from failed relationships, I wasn't exactly at my peak.  So naturally, I ran from my problems.  I felt as though I had to go to Seattle, I had to get a breath of fresh air and momentarily shove away the discontenment of my life at home.  It was a good breather, but a week of vacation doesn't make everything go away.  When I came home everything was the same.   Not to say I have some terrible life, but I just couldn't see the goodness in it anymore. I couldn't see the goodness in anything.  Despite my lack of enthusiasm, I finished out the year at school.  

This year I went on five vacations.  I saw the world from the top of London and drank a pint of Guiness from the Brewery.  I kissed the Blarney stone and saw Temper Trap at the Showbox.  I watched the Stampeede in the rain and I met my first single serving friend.  I dragged myself and my backpack from Seattle to Portland to Vancouver to Calgary back to Seattle, then to Hamilton to Montreal followed by London to Dublin to Minneapolis and back to Calgary.  I think this says two things. One, I love to travel. I will starve if it means I can travel. And two, I don't like to face my problems.  When I get sick of life, I buy a plane ticket.  Some people gamble, and some people drink - I plan a trip.  I think it's probably unhealthy. Maybe one day I will change it.  There's something about breathing new air, meeting new people, seeing new scenery that beats any kind of high out there in my opinion.  When I step off a plane, I get this rush of emotion that makes me forget that anything else matters.  It's like having the world at your fingertips with nothing stopping you- you are where you want to be and you can do whatever you want.  

Now, as I sit on this coach with the bright lights whizzing by, I can't help but wonder what next year will bring.  Will the trials of this year lead up to something life changing? Will I see more heartache and dissapointment? Or, as what seems most likely... nothing will really change all that much.  I will go on being me; having ups and downs and for the most part hanging in there. I like how Death Cab puts it... "So this is the New Year, I don't feel any different." Just because the number at the end of the date changed, doesn't mean anything else did.

Epilogue: Once again this year I have decided not predetermine self disapointment by making New Years resolutions that I know I won't keep. So I didn't. I hope that in 2011 I will be true to myself and I don't expect any more.

Ireland

I suppose I never wrote about Ireland. With all the business of Christmas and Dan's death I've hardly had time to reflect on my trip at all. In the two weeks that I motored through Ireland, I thought it was an absolutely lovely country.  It has beautiful quiet country side, intersting history, busy cities and some of the most fun people you will ever meet.  I found the Ireland-ers quite a funny bunch, one guy from Dublin admitted that they just like to complain-they don't really care what it's about but they like to have something to complain about.  The finance minister seemed to be the flavour of the week. Appearently he is nearly as bad as the devil himself.  I'm not sure I came to any great revelations while I lugged my backpack from train to plane to train around the country, but I did learn that you see the rawness of people pretty quickly while you're travelling.  Not as a bad thing necessarily, but it's weird. It's almost like some sort of survival instinct kicks in and everyone's personalities are multiplied by 10.  Those little things that you could ignore about people are suddenly blaringly obvious when you go to sleep in the bed beside theirs and then wake up 8 hours later staring them in the face.  Everyone's slightly annoying habits are suddenly the baine of your existance and you wonder how you will ever talk to them again when your home.  But really it's not so bad, once you get home and have a few days to breathe, you realize that you were probably equally annoying yourself and remember times where you decided that you were much more worthy of the train seat then them, or the time that that you decided you should infact not have to have the top bunk.  Travelling around with these guy friends made me wonder if this was at all like marriage.  When you can choose to see people it's always great, because it's on your timetable - you see them when you are feeling sociable and looking nice and wanting to interact.  But it's a little different when they are just there. All the time.  Maybe it's different when you're madly in love with someone, but I just think maybe that's why so many people say that the first few years of marriage can be tough. When you look gross, they are there. When you're tired, they are there.  When you want to sleep, they want to read and when you want to stay in, they want to go out.

  I think that somewhat relates to having a servant's attitude.  I have an easy enough time putting in an hour or two of volunteer work when I've schedualed it into my week, made time for it, etc, etc.  But when i'm late to my appointment and then suddenly someone that i'm not all that fond of asks for an hour of my time to help them out with this or that, suddenly the whole put others first thing kind of hits the back burner.  Travelling with people wasn't like my neatly schedualed 2 hours each Wednesday night, it was all the time. It was when I was tired and grumpy and wanted me time and didn't want to ever see another human again.  I think maybe that's what Jesus was talking about.  Serving people is easy when you plan for it, but living a life devoted to being 2nd isn't quite as easily lived out.

Dan Edler

This last week has been busy, to say the least. In the last 5-ish days... I have been in 4 different countries, gone back to work, been to a wedding of a close friend, and also been to the funeral of a close friend.  I've been grieving, celebrating, reconnecting with old friends, and also meeting new ones.  I suppose this post, though, isn't about me. Sure, my week has been crazy... but that's not the point. The point is Dan Edler. I think his infectionious affect on people deserves to be recognized one more time.  One last pitiful ode to show the huge impact that boy had on my life in the 8 years I knew him.  I think it would be fair to say that Dan was the first boy to break my heart.  I was pretty sure he was the most beautiful man to walk the earth at age 13, and through many msn chats I began to grow an assurity that we were soul mates.  Of course, like always happens, we grew up.  My childhood crush was put behind me and we developed what I still consider a beautiful friendship.  I still don't know what good will come from his death, I don't know that I ever will.  There is something just completely wrong about watching your 19 year-old friends carry their friend out of a church in a coffin.  Knowing that someone's death wasn't an accident or "the right time" or the result of some overwhelming cancer adds a whole other element to the grieving process. There is nothing more natural to do than blame yourself.  Everyone says "don't blame yourself", and no matter how many times they say it... it's all you want to do. Because maybe, just maybe if you can spin the situation some way and make it your fault... then he didn't really have a problem, and he didn't really chose to take his own life. And somehow, in a strange way... it is comforting to put it all on yourself.  There is something warming about thinking that if only you had said this instead of that or been here instead of there, he would be alive. It's like a good pain... like picking off a scab that was bothering you, it hurts but in a nice way.  But at the end of the day, no matter how many scenarios you can come up with that make the situation depend on you... he's gone. And he's not coming back.  

Moving on... part 2 of the tragity nobody signed up for.  When I think of moving on from my friendship with Dan, it seems like the most horrible idea.  Just box up all your memories and put them in a special compartment in your brain in which you shove in the corner and don't open ever again so that you can go on and live a normal life as though that person never affected you at all.  I hate the thought.  But, at the same time I am reminded of that scene in one of the Narnia books. (The magicians nephew, I think). The Lion tears into his hard exterior, and starts pulling off his scales, and it hurts so bad but it's the only way he can be free.  I guess maybe that's the point of moving on.  Not pushing someone out of mind, but finding meaning beyond their death, if that makes sense. Seeing their death realistically and then waking up the next morning and facing life without them anyways.

I don't think I have anything figured out yet. All I know is... I miss my friend.