Vintage Photographs

This post has been a long time coming. I've had these photos sitting on my computer for weeks now, but haven't had the time or energy to do anything with them. But they're here now so let's go.

These are some fabulous old photographs I found when cleaning house a few weeks ago. I find them haunting, but at the same time they can bring a smile to my face. It's a mixture of nostalgia and laughter? Does that make any sense at all? Anyways, to sum up I think they're great.

I think what attracts me to these pictures is that they're more than that. They're memories. They may not be my memories, but that makes them no less important. They're from another time and another place and they mean more than what's on that piece of paper. They're a beautiful way to honour the past in a sense. Beyond that, they represent the happiest times in somebody's life. The bad times are never captured on film. The box chock full of pictures to me is a happy life, one where even the little things bring some joy.

It's so easy to romanticize the past and when you get caught under a pile of these old photos, you'll see why. And isn't that paper fantastic? It's from the box they were stored in. I've never seen anything like it before!

Sounds and Tastes of Christmas

It isn't really Christmas in my house until I've listened to every Christmas album my parents own (five times) and have baked the traditional Christmas shortbread and cakes. It's a little late this year, but I have finally completed those tasks.

I think it's the smells and sounds of this time of year that really put me in a festive mood. It's not the presents or the malls, it's the little things I remember from childhood. I used to love helping Grandma bake the Christmas Cakes in her big orange bowl. She would always have everything pre-measured so I would be able to pour things into the mixer. I don't have anybody to pre-measure the ingredients for me anymore, but every year when I bake the cakes myself I remember all those good times. I still sneak a few of the candied cherries for myself as I'm baking.

The sounds are as equally important to me. Every year we listen to Johnny Mathis when we're decorating the tree, eating shortbread and drinking eggnog. My mom sings, albeit terribly off key, but that's all part of the charm and my brother curls up on the couch watching as everybody else goes crazy with tinsel.

These are the memories that I savour each year. Even though things change, year after year I still have these little traditions that will always remind me of home.









I apologize for the picture quality, last minute photos for the album and blogging do not mix. That having been said Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Summers Past

This concept of normalcy; I've often wondered if it exists. At university everybody seems to eschew it in favour of finding his or her own path, but I think overall everybody is just a little off. I'm not here to get into a philosophical debate (trust me, I'd lose). Sometimes I just think that even in this little micro-universe I'm not exactly "normal," whatever that means. Who's ever heard of environmentalist theatre major whose obsession with Springsteen led to a love of 1970s muscle cars? What kind of theatre student loves the stereotypical guy thing.

This whole post is a little more personal than I like to get on this blog. It's also incredibly off topic, so forgive me.

I think one of the great things about university is you can explore different interests and find a niche. You're exposed to ideas that weren't necessarily part of your experience growing up. The pool of people is just that much larger. However, I've found a certain type of person which is great, but there's still that hometown girl in me. The girl who remembers struggling to scrape by in an old used car. There's a part of me that will never quite fit in in a world that's dominated by the upper middle class (which is a shame). Most people from my hometown are married with children now. They've got solid jobs and work hard. I think all day.

I'm glad I chose the path I did, but I think I'll always identify a little with the people left in my hometown. They're the people who shaped me. They're my family and my neighbours. I never really fit in there either and I wouldn't go back, but their influence is profound. Sometimes I miss that life. Running downstairs and hopping into my friend's beat up 80s camaro and driving, walking for an hour in the August heat just to get to the coffee shop with board games,dancing down at the local hall, trekking into the city for an outdoor concert that we saved for months to buy tickets too, those are the memories I'll cherish. Those high school summers defined me. I grew apart from those friends and I miss them. We're different people now, but a part of me will stay lost in those summers, the same part of me that doesn't quite fit into the university mold.