"Rolling in the Deep"
You could've had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hands
And you played it to the beat
I've been listening to Adele's new album 21 for the past few weeks, and I love her more every time I hit play on my iTunes. The lyrics are from the first song on her album, "Rolling in the Deep." She's a jazzy soul singer from England, and she's just incredible. Check her out, and you will not be disappointed.
Thank you for all your helpful and thoughtful comments, Facebook messages, texts, and Skype conversations regarding my last blog post. I'm not much closer to a life plan, but I will be going home in April, probably staying in Newfoundland for the summer, and working out where life will take me in the fall. In any case, I'm still open to suggestions for making money / finding a career / general merriment.
In other news:
Two weekends ago I went to Galiano Island with two of my classmates, Stacey and Thea. Stacey's family has a house on the island, which is just in the gulf between Vancouver and Vancouver Island. There was a literary festival there, so we intended to stay at the house, attend a few sessions, do some exploring, and tackle our respective piles of school work. However, the weekend turned out to be incredibly cold, and we turned out to be excessively comfortable, so we spent most of the two days wrapped in blankets cooking, playing Bananagrams, and writing papers.
Stacey and I arrived by ferry on Friday evening. It wasn't late, but it was pitch black on the walk from the ferry to Stacey's car - the island is inhabited by 1200 people, so they haven't invested much money into streetlights past the ferry port. As we walked uphill in the rapidly dropping temperature, me lugging a very full book- and shoulderbag, I asked Stacey if she had brought a flashlight - I have very poor depth perception in the dark. She, seemingly reluctant, pulled out a headlamp, which provided enough light to ensure that I wouldn't step on a squirrel, should one run two feet in front of me.
As we trudged along the windy road in all but blinding blackness, Stacey began to tell me stories about her childhood romps on the island. She told me about the crazy homeless man with wild, tangled hair who lived down by the docks and who they thought was a murderer after children who walked alone in the evening; she introduced me to the forrest where wild sprites and fairies lived, who were sure to smite you if you didn't play nicely; she introduced me to the Murder Playground where she and her cousins used to fear the end of their young lives by "accidentally" falling on sharp objects.
It was at this point that I looked shakily over to Stacey, my breath caught in my chest, and squeaked, "Stacey, are you going to kill me?" I hadn't suspected any ulterior motives to her inviting me to her island refuge other than fun and friendship, but it occurred to me that I had failed to tell my parents where I was, and hadn't updated my Facebook status or Twitter feed. I could be easily murdered and no one would know where to find my body. It was the perfect crime.
Stacey assured me that she wasn't plotting my death - with a slight laugh - and the rest of the evening passed smoothly after picking Thea up at the ferry, eating supper, and settling down for a movie. As I was closing the blinds for my room, eyes bleary from half-dozing on the couch, I saw something that made my blood run cold: an axe, a big axe, right outside of the door to my room. I quickly sent a text to my loved ones, telling them where I was, saying goodbye, and requesting that my books be distributed to people who would appreciate them. I settled in for the night, at peace with my probable fate of another unanswered disappearance.
When I awoke to find that I was not dead the next morning, the rest of the weekend had a nice sheen to it. We had a really nice, relaxing time, working and sleeping and eating and playing board games. The island is beautiful and Stacey's house is right on the water, so we spent a lot of time waiting for whales. They never came, but we did see plenty of birds and maybe even an otter. We came back on a Sunday evening to a snowy Vancouver; I was just thankful that I had made it back to the mainland.
Good times on the West Coast!