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Archive of ‘memories’ category

memories, pills, tired | 1 Comment

Wake…ZzZz…Up

There are some days where its a push to get out of bed. I may be exaggerating…if you’d ask my mom who has to bug me to get out of bed, everyday is difficult to get up. The few hours in between the time I’m given my late ‘morning’ pills by Mum, to me actually sitting up, pass in a sleep-drug hangover. It makes me rather annoyed that the pills don’t work at the time I’d like them to, but keep working long after I wish I was awake. By the time I do get out of bed, around 3, I have to  start my IV, otherwise the timing is all wrong for the rest of the day. I feel like I’m always on drugs, but when I stop and think, I am.

I sometimes let myself wonder what life would feel like, if I was well. Sometimes late at night, when I have much “along-thinking-time”, I suddenly panic when I can’t remember what the sensation of running was like; what the emptiness of a fern covered forest smells like on one icy winter morning; what the exact sound a water-bomb smashing into your arm makes. Its these sort of things that keep me up at night.

Berry Barn, Drama Camp, memories, reunion | 3 Comments

Berry Barn Reunion!

Of all my favoritest memories in my life, perhaps the best of all were the summers spent at the Berry Barn. It is seriously a special place, just on the border of Sooke and Metchosin. There are usually 3 horses: Velvet, Prophesy, and baby Scout (who I’ve known since he was a stumbling foal). They spend their days lying about the paddock, playing horse games, and always coming to us for a treat or a pet and kiss. The dog, Dinny, and the de-clawedbarn cat (gosh…whats her name!? help me guys!!??)  – who can catch birds and mice simply with pure skill. The amazing humans at the barn, are…
Glenys, our mentor and drama instructor who manages to pull shows and scripts right out of her hat it seems;
Grandma, who makes the most beautiful costumes ever, and paints the sets single-handedly, and. incidentally, makes the finest and most addictive Welsh cakes in the land;
and Betty, who helps out with everything, and is the most amazing, magical seamstress!!

There are usually less than 20 of us who are in a play. We’ve done Macbeth, Midsummernight’s Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, Tempest and Twelfth Night, a play a summer since I was about 10. We spend 2 weeks preparing; learning lines, sword playing on the mossy rocks, running lines in the gazebo, flying around in our outlandish costumes, and blocking out scenes. We played all sorts of acting games too; improv explorations, the ‘ball’ game, the ‘Keeper of the Keys’, tossing dowels, creating tableaus, making art for the play, and learning to use our bodies to express what our words could not. But the camp means so much more to us than all the things it was. We all are the closest friends, bonded by the great Bard, and spent every free break running wild over Glenys acreage; playing by the ‘crick’ and catching frogs, galloping barefoot over the mossy, wood chip floors, playing on the bridge and scampering over rocks, swimming in the frigid water, flying down the steep hill, hiking over boulders into uncharted territories. It was our magical dominion and we explored ever inch. We even rehearsed scenes outside, using the natural woodland setting to inspire us to imagine more clearly the island setting of Tempest, the dangerous tricks of the forest in Midsummernight’s Dream, the traveled paths in Twelfth Night. It was an incredible 5 summers, and the kind of magic we created  offstage was the realest I have ever found.

Last night was our great traditional reunion. Its usually a potluck and Glenys makes chilli and we play improv games until its way too late and the parents have all long arrived and helped themselves to some food and laughs. Getting up the steep flight of stairs was difficult, but I knew that even if there was broken glass on each stair I would drag myself to the top. We had simply the most marvelous time. Everyone has grown up, grown into their own skin. Growing up is beautiful.

Here are some pics I snapped at the party!

Matt, Nick, and Morgan, our comic relief
Will, Dan, Pelle and Kaeleigh (all looking their best :P)
Char and Matt!

The Lovely Laura’s, Me, and half of Matt!!

I miss you all so much! So many good times 😀 xoxoxo

choir, kilts, memories, pain, rain, sun | 0 comment

Kilts, Kousins, and Kantats!

I miss the smell of wet kilts! Can you imagine missing such an awful smell! The girls used to say they smelled like owl pellets, but having never smelled them before, I cannot say for sure. They picked up the phrase after some out-week trip, and the expression sort of stuck. To me it smells kind of like if sheep had been out in the rain… Actually, my kilt is one of the acrylics, so you don’t have that ‘wet-kilt’ smell. Sitting out on the grass, running through mud puddles, climbing things…life is just one big opportunity for a mess!

All this talk of wet kilts, and today was actually the first day without rain in several weeks. My cousin, of course, was ecstatic that there was a little sun…shes been here for nearly 2 weeks, and we haven’t had a nice day at all. There was SUN, real, bright and warm (sort of) in the sky, a blue tinge to the grey clouds that suggested that there might be a sky above them.

I went to choir today. My big outing of the day…twenty-five (exhausting) minutes of singing. I love choir…it feels just like old times. It feels like I spent ALOT of time in that choir room, but I guess we just had practice very often…and all of my good friends are also in choir! I love taking back a little part of my life, one of my favorite parts, actually. Our christmas concert is soon…so excited. At least I know most of the words to those songs!

I’m pretty tired today. I feel like my brain is a little swollen, pressing painfully against my skull at the back. Or maybe I got hit with a hammer.

confusion, IEP, memories, plan, sara marie, SIDES | 2 Comments

One Hundred and One’th

This is the big “101” post.

Wow. I’ve had over a 101 things to say about this. Its sort of daunting thinking about all those free-written words that I don’t remember. Its strange: I had things so say…I said them, but I have no idea what I said. It is a twisted feeling. I recognize my style and word choice, yet its like someones play a trick on me, taking my words and warping them into phrases and prose.
And its no where near the beginning of April.
My mind wanders today. A butterfly, my thoughts jump from flower to prickly shrubs, to Dogwood blossoms, and Venus Flytraps. Each thought zaps me with a painful pinch as I consider the past. I try not to. I must remember that now is the time that is worth the time. I must dedicate now to the rest of my life.
Why isn’t anything easy?
I met with Elaine and my teacher, Sally, at SIDES (a distance education program!). I also read my Lyme speech to my teacher which was fun!! We also sort of put together an IEP for me (individualized education program), which will help the other teachers help me by knowing what I need. Of course having no memory is a little snag I’ve been trying to get over, but I will share with you now my secret.
I’ve spent nearly all of my life in school, so don’t think that I am going to miss the end of it now. So close to the finish line, do you quit? No! You put on an extra burst of speed and cross the line. I am going to graduate….I only need a few more courses. I will graduate, and then, proud as punch, walk across the stage to receive my diploma. This is “THE PLAN”. A dream, really, but does it matter?
I met an incredible girl, Sara Marie, who is like my ‘Lyme Twin’. Seriously, its creeping me out. We have almost identical symptoms, and of course she understand completely about the complex issues that, quite frankly, no matter your education or ‘case studies’, you cannot conceive. The truth is in our pain, and it is very bonding! I’m so lucky to know her. Hopefully we will get better together. Under my ‘links’ section, there is a link to her blog. Please check it out! Spread the Word. Pass it ON!
memories, movies, not sticking your head in the sand | 1 Comment

Fireworks, my Lumax and a Proverbial Ostrich

Ew, 2009! That officially makes me OLD (ha!) and about to graduate, or in a year. I mean it looks way closer than it ever has before. And it’s never looked this far away.

I can’t wait to get home. I know it’s true. I say it all the time, and yet, I think, what happens when I get home? What happens when I see, up close, the life I used to know going on at a ridiculously fast pace, leaving me behind. Leaving me further and further behind. I want to know when I will begin to remember things again. A fortnight or perhaps just a month? I shudder to even imagine, a year? I want it to be the future already and I know, with so much certainty, that I’m gonna run hard, and learn new stuff. There’s a reason they say that we’re always learning, like it or not (besides being true); it’s ’cause without constantly learning, life feels a waste. Now I read, but glean nothing. Now I listen, and it’s in one ear and out the other, literally. Now I play music I’ve had for months, but each time I play it I am sight reading. 
I hate to harp on about the memory loss thing. In my defense, I don’t really remember writing about it a lot, so it feels new. But I want to be wholly honest when I write everything. I want this to be just exactly what I’m thinking, as it falls from my mind. I’m keeping it real. Ohh I feel so scattered…is any of this making sense? 
If you lived, but had no memories of living, couldn’t call on your mind or trust it, you’d make it a focal point too. 
I take pictures. It’s how I deal. I take pictures of the lame and boring details that you don’t have to take pictures of. There are photos on the walls here, most 8 x 11 ‘s of my favorite places, flowers, colors. And a collage. And some leaves are strung up on the wall. And dried flowers…gah…I’m falling off topic. I take movies too. 
Simple movies. I just turn around as far as I can, and pan back to the far side of my field of vision, just to capture everything as it was, as it breathed. Sometimes when I watch them I get angry at the betrayal of my temporal lobe. It’s hard to hate an inseparable part of yourself. But mostly, or when I’m feeling patient and reflective, they don’t make me angry, just curious. 
There shall be no sticking of the head in the proverbial and aforementioned sand. Which is why I take pictures really, because, “An ostrich with its head in the sand is just as blind to opportunity as to disaster”.  
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