UBC

One of the truly most gorgeous university campuses in Canada has to be the University of British Columbia in Vancouver.  A mix of modern and historical buildings stand on campus.  One of the buildings I'm talking about is the Irving J. Barber Learning Centre.   From one side, you get the picture of an old stone manor house with beautiful bay windows (perfect for the coast) and an arched doorway.

I walked around yesterday and found the campus buzzing with activity as it always seems to be whenever I visit.. It was exam time but also managed to be party central.  I saw several students walking around with cotton candy or hot dogs.  Tents were erected everywhere with bands and booths promoting different causes and activities. Like I said in so many other postings, there seemed to be happiness everywhere I went.  Of course, I can't speak for those who are stressed out by exams or unhappy for any reason. 

UBC seems to be a university that encourages good health and exercise.  You get the fresh sea air, the trees that are green year around no matter how cold it could be, and flowers (especially tulips and rhododendrons) in the spring. The Pacific Spirit Trail is a popular walking and hiking trail and there are several beaches close by the campus.  I visited two of the libraries on campus and was impressed by the large windows, comfy seats for students to study on (all of them used by conscientious students).  I hope that someday, when I've completed some of my upgrading courses, that I will not only work, but attend UBC as a student.

Roots of Math Phobia

I'm taking a break from my math class for fifteen minutes (along with my instructor and classmates) and what's going through my mind is a question of where my fear came from.  Frankly, I don't know.  I had a memory today where I was still in grade one.  My teacher pulls out the math booklets and my six-year-old stomach contracts.  I don't throw up, but each day I dread that time of day (I think it was the afternoon) where she gets us to put away our reading (my favourite activity) and she pulls out the arithmetic.  I was able to do arithmetic and I often did my work even though I dreaded it (like I had a choice).  To this day, though, I cannot figure out where this math phobia turned up.

I actually enjoyed math these last couple of days.  I still wish I didn't have to do it, but, once I get going and grasp a concept, I"m okay.  I get tested, though, and the familiar old ache returns.  Someday, I'll find the answer!  I'll get it done!

Dreaming of Giants

Sitting on the bus on the way into and back from Vancouver, I'd look over at the mountains.  Vancouver's surrounded by them.  Yesterday, they were so clear, big and snowcapped, I almost wanted to walk right over to them.  I felt like a child, imagining myself taking giant steps over to them, grabbing a handful of snow, and tossing it as far as I could.  Of course, they are further away than they look and I'm sure it would take a whole day just to walk to them.

Still, the clarity and cool air yesterday made them assessible, somehow, and I didn't want to stop dreaming.

Birds in the Wind

Today, the wind kicked up the waves.  On the pier, I stopped for a moment, watching a young (I think), grey sea gull trying to fly against the wind and NOT succeeding.

She lifted her wings ready to take flight.  She would get up in the air and the wind would push her backwards almost in slow motion.  Then she'd land, lift her wings again and try and try again to get a little further and each time she'd appear to be flying backwards.  She paused on the sand and then tried again.  I couldn't watch much more as it was painful to see this little seabird try to achieve what seemed impossible.

Humans on the pier and on the beach almost made a game out of letting the strong winds push them forwards or backwards and it was hard to walk a straight line with the gusts.  I looked back at some of the birds flapping in vain against the wind.  Maybe the young gull was playing a game too!  Who knows?!  Before I saw her, two other seagulls flew over me, flapping with every effort and making it down on the other side of the pier.  I could almost imagine them: "Race you to the other side!" one would say, and the other would say, "we'll see about that!"  So many different kinds of life out today yet a similar seeming struggle against pressure pushing you in the opposite direction.  Like the little seagull, we can only hope we're strong enough to push through the wind.

Guitars and Sea Air and Freedom

It seems wherever I go now, I hear the gentle or passionate strumming of a guitar.  Yesterday, I was going up the escalator at the Bridgeport station and I looked down and saw two young men jamming while waiting for the bus to take them to the ferry.  I almost wanted to go back down that up escalator just to hear them.  In Ocean Park, there is a gentleman who sits in different areas near the library who sits and plays a gorgeous tune everytime I hear him.  Thinking he was busking, I almost put some money into his guitar case and he smiled and said "no."  I've seen him since and he and I often say hello to each other or just smile. He was just playing out of love.

There was a busker last Saturday at Granville Island who was playing and singing and making some money, but what he did was add to the already positive feelings surrounding the market.  People sat and ate their lunches, drank their coffees, or just sat enjoying the complimentary senses that made the environment so beautiful.  Guitar and seagulls: a quite harmonious duet or quintet, depending on how many seagulls.  I love to go there and I never feel bad at the end of a day.

I love that people are pulling out there guitars more and more, whether for bringing in money for themselves or just playing for the joy of it.

Keep strumming, people!

Hugs from Jason

I was cold last night, wrapped in my sheets and blankets.  I thought I heard a knock on my door so I went to it and there you were--only for a moment.  Suddenly I felt a warmth that sheets and blankets couldn't have given me.  You wrapped me in your arms for only a few minutes and I remembered your bear hugs as only you could give them.  I awoke, realized you weren't really there, but, who knows, maybe you were.  Thank you for that, Sweetheart!

Two Pigeons

Two pigeons are waddling back and forth along the rounded window ledge.  One is rather small, yet also chubby.  He is followed by a very well-fed pigeon who moves whenever the smaller moves.  I truly do not know the sexes of the pigeons, but it almost seemed to me like she (for the sake of this posting, the pigeon is a she) was a nursemaid, watching his every move and then fluttering her feathers and shooing him the other direction on the ledge.  Then again, the larger one could be excited by the smaller pigeon, but I'm getting into rather adult territory here.

I'm looking down onto the corner of Robson and Homer Streets and wonder what the pigeons see.  Their shit is all over the ledge and I wonder if they do see humans as potential targets.  Oh, well.  That's me reading too many Far Side Books.