Last night, Millennium Place threw a party for all the volunteers, me being one of them, Sarah being another. There was free red and white wine, beer, soft drinks, food (sushi! and crackers and fancy cheeses and veggies, dip and chips and salsa) and a great big two-toned brown cake on which we gorged afterwards. I had five glasses of red, and since I hadn't eaten since that afternoon it went straight to me. We giggled about everything and stood by the food table and ate and talked to people, like you do at such gatherings. We were probably the only people under thirty, but it didn't matter. After my fourth glass I went to bring it back to the bar, and thought I was finished, but Christian offered me more. "Yeah, I'm from the East Coast, I can drink you under the table!" I said in my mock-CB accent.
When we decided we should probably leave (everyone else was taking off) we took two of the helium balloons from the banister and wandered off to find somewhere to suck them. Sarah went first and sang a song, and then when I went to do it I let go and the balloon flew off, up about twenty feet. Passersby went "Ahhh! Oh no!" and some Random Guy went "Are you guys really sucking helium?" We giggled and said Yes.
We still had one balloon left, and we wanted to find somewhere a little less public to inhale it. I still had to drop by work and pick up some stuff, and I was really questioning my ability to appear normal. The second balloon only let out a little bit of gas, enough for Sarah to continue her song, and then it popped. We went to Shakespeare's and somehow I talked and walked straight, and then we wandered through the Village up the Gondola bus stop and got our drunk selves on the bus and to Alpine Meadows.
We lay on her bed talking in our lucid drunkenness, about where we were going, and home, and missing it, and how we would miss each other. I've never been the kind of drunk where things just open up and make sense, but there it was. Everything I'd taken for granted, assimilated into my head, was flipped around and I suddenly saw it to be amazing, something I was really lucky to have. I've been here for 5 months and at times everything seems to just fit into a pattern of same-old-same-old, but then at other times I see how crazy it is that I'm here, and having these experiences. When I go home it will all feel like a dream. I've been wanting home, the familiarity of it, but then I think: it will just be the same, and all I will have of this time will be photos and mementos, and memories of course. There will be no way to get back here, and if I just let it go by without grabbing onto each moment and letting it take me, what will I have left when I do go home?
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the human behind the bean
I'm a 27 year old Canadian woman. I grew up on Cape Breton Island, although my parents and their families are from Quebec and Ohio. Currently I live in Cape Breton, in a small town by the Bras D'Or Lake.
I can make a good soup and tie my own shoes. I've worked as a nanny, a potter's assistant, a shop clerk, and a janitor. I've also worked in a library, and taught computers to seniors. I've travelled to Australia and New Zealand and across Canada by train. I spent two and a half years in university before I left. I like the way the air smells in the Fall.
Since 2002 - this is my blog, a place for me to write about life, what I experience, to share my photography and my writing. I'm glad you're here!
I can make a good soup and tie my own shoes. I've worked as a nanny, a potter's assistant, a shop clerk, and a janitor. I've also worked in a library, and taught computers to seniors. I've travelled to Australia and New Zealand and across Canada by train. I spent two and a half years in university before I left. I like the way the air smells in the Fall.
Since 2002 - this is my blog, a place for me to write about life, what I experience, to share my photography and my writing. I'm glad you're here!
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