"We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are - that is the fact." Jean-Paul Sartre, French author & existentialist philosopher (1905 - 1980)

This was an incredibly difficult weekend...but I wish I could go back. I think I learned a lot, and it certainly opened my eyes. I still have some learning and growing to do. I have a lot to prove, and until I prove it to myself, it's hard to prove to anyone else.

For some reason my mother questions the fact that I'm not ecstatic that she was off work the whole time I am home. Many of my favorite days are ones that I spend alone. I like being alone, or at least spending time with someone I'm not constantly explaining and defending myself to. She also wonders why I'm not thrilled to be here. Granted I'm not upset to be here, but this doesn't feel like home anymore. I have not been settled in any one place for the last two years. My sanity is in a state of dis-repair.

Here I am sitting in the Calgary airport. I’m stuck in the middle. I spent hours awake last night, not wanting to go to sleep. To sleep means to wake. To wake means to face the next day. I did the same when I was flying West. It’s the fear of what I have to face on the other end. It turned out what I had to face in the cold North West was not as bad as I had imagined. I have this fear that it will not be so easy tomorrow. My arrival on the East coast tonight is not the problem. Tonight all I have to do is get home and go to sleep. Tomorrow I face the music.

I made the mistake last night of asking whether he would want to move into the guest room…this, for some strange reason, was found unacceptable. I find myself in a strange position. In the basement I feel cold and removed. Upstairs I feel like a guest in my own home. It’s not that I want to be in the basement, but rather that I am not moving my clothing upstairs. I thought that since he had never properly put his things away in the basement, even thought we had spent two full summers living there, it would make sense that he may want to move upstairs where he would have a bigger dresser and his own closet.

Mom moved her dresser into the spare room, and emptied it out. She brought back the beds that her mother had left her and got rid of the wretched, spring attack of a bed that was in our guest room. I guess that’s just it, it’s the guest room. I do not wish to be a guest in my own home. Not that it’s ever quite felt like my home. I will find my home.

I’ve been feeling these days that that could be part of my confusion. I need the freedom to find my own home; to find my own ground; to find my own path. I don’t know where it is that I am headed. That’s always been a challenge for me. Leaving high school, I knew only one thing: I was going to university. The process by which I chose my degree was frivolous. Do I enjoy literature? Not particularly. Do I enjoy writing? Not a bit. Do I enjoy the social sciences? Not as a career. Do I enjoy applied science? I can handle it. What about math? It’s not so bad either. And so I ended up in engineering, a little bit of science, a little bit of math, and a whole lot of confidence. Confidence…did I really have any of that?

Here I am five years later, working at my first “real” job. This “real” job has very little to do with what they teach you in school, but isn’t that just exactly what they teach you in school? Your job will not make use of your technical knowledge. Considering how I began this ridiculous trek, one should not be surprised that I am not at all bothered by the fact that I don’t use any of my technical knowledge. What I am bothered by is the thought that my next job very well could require me to think, and think hard.

Will I end up doing this as a career? Or as I have sometimes thought, will I use it only as a confidence booster in whatever it is that I do end up doing? I suppose there is no way to predict just what will happen, but only to wait and see. I think this is why a feeling of being tied down has me so frantic at the moment. The truth will show in the end, but for now it’s time to let life go its path. The big meaning of all this: tomorrow will happen, and tomorrow will pass. I will survive.

And one more time, I'm packed. It's been a bizarre day. I got on the bus this morning at seven as usual, but didn't get off until eleven thirty. There was a terrible accident at the entrance to Syncrude, and all of the traffic was backed up for hours. The seven thirty start shift buses didn't get there until ten thirty. I was supposed to be there at eight. Thank goodness for company transportation, we don't get docked pay for these types of things. This is the second time I've been late for work due to an accident on the road ahead. It's scary stuff...I've seen far too many flashing lights lately.

I just make alfredo sauce and didn't screw it up for once...I don't know what it is about this place, but I can make foods I consider rediculously challenging most of the time, like fried eggs for example. Uh oh...my belly's not too happy about the alfredo sauce...grumble, grumble.

And I'm packed to go home...mostly, at least all the things I'm taking home to leave at home. It seems strange really. I feel as thought there are other things I should take as well, I just can't think of what they are. My toothbrush is key, but I can't pack that type of thing yet.

Life is crazy, life is changing, life is chaos. The beautiful thing, is that some things never change. I had a very long conversation with an old friend tonight. It was all light and fluff, but we need that every once in awhile. There's a lot to talk about when you only hear from a person a couple of times a year. Another much newer friend reminded me tonight that there are some more serious conversations I should be having. I'm incredibly good at running away from problems. Anyone close to me can vouch for that...just don't rub it in, that wound is deep enough. I think everyone who reads this could probably come up with a different issue that I have to deal with right now. Life is a maze of insanity. I think I'm drawn to insanity...but I'm anchored by old friends. I love you guys. I'm greatful for the support. I hope I reciprocate.

"It's the good girls who keep diaries; the bad girls never have the time." Tallulah Bankhead, US movie actress (1903 - 1968)

So that makes me a good girl right? Or is it cancelled by the fact that this is a public forum for me to rant to the world?

And tonight it ended. The last ski of the season, short and sweet...or perhaps I should say short and crusty. The snow was all little ice crystals that had been chopped up by the groomer. We did a quick five km, then headed to the pub for wings.

On another note: Why am I so chicken shit sometimes? People piss me off and I want to rip them to shreds, yet I say nothing. Rah!

And tonight it ended. The last ski of the season, short and sweet...or perhaps I should say short and crusty. The snow was all little ice crystals that had been chopped up by the groomer. We did a quick five km, then headed to the pub for wings.

On another note: Why am I so chicken shit sometimes? People piss me off and I want to rip them to shreds, yet I say nothing. Rah!

Why is it that when we do what we like people seem to have so much trouble understanding? I don't know what it is that I seek. There's a sense of escapism that I crave. There are places and moments where the importance of life melts away. I want to be there.

22h15 Thursday: phone rings. Phil says, "Tony bailed, still want to go to Banff?"

23h30 Thursday: depart Fort McMurray.

Phil and Tony had been planning on going to Banff for the weekend, since Friday was a scheduled day off. I had been planning on working Friday. Tony had been starting to back out early in the week, and I told Phil I'd love to go if he did. Strangely enough, I knew he was going to bail, just didn't imagine it would be so last minute.

Phil drove the first five hours until he couldn't stay awake any longer. I then drove from Edmonton to Calgary, where my eyelids started to fall. I did a lot of resting my eyes, but really only slept 15 minutes the whole way.

08h00 Friday: arrival in Banff.

Friday we skied Sunshine. It was a gorgeous morning, then while sitting in the pub, grabbing a bite, it started to snow. Boy did it snow. Good thing it was snow, because at the base of the mountain it poured rain. By the time we were heading out for the day the ski-out was lovely and slushy. We dashed around in the rain and grabbed some food at the grocery store.

Note to self: next time in Banff, stay at the Y, not the hostel.

Supper consisted of a frozen pizza, McCain triple chill cake, and a mudslide. Damn I love road trips. After supper I thought I was going to pass out. We took back my rentals, then napped for a couple hours. A Red Bull and another mudslide, and it was out again. We went to HooDoos...classy place. (I actually mean that, it wasn't sarcasm.) The bar was realitively quiet and we headed back to sleep at one in the morning.

Saturday was absolutely beautiful. It was warm and sunny, and we wandered along the Bow river. By the time lunch rolled around we were starving. I had the best sub ever...or at least it seemed like it to my hungry belly. We stuck our heads in a couple shops, and Phil bought a new watch (finally!). To finish off the afternoon we drove to Canmore, stopped at a couple more shops, and then to the Grizzly Paw for a few beer. (Yes, I did just say I had a few beer...me, beer, no lies. It's a metamorphosis.)

Back in Banff we grabbed some deliciously greasy diner food and another nap. This time we didn't wake up until eleven thirty...perfect time for the bar...if I wasn't half asleep. We went to the Pump and Tap, and it was packed. We quickly found out why: two dollar drinks...sweet. Let's just say we didn't go home early this time. (Even though most people drifted off to other bars before the night was over.)

Sunday morning, it was breakfast and back on the road. Breakfast was awesome, there's a little cafe at the Y and I had French toast with bacon and fruit salad...does it get any better? By the time we were actually on the road it was eleven. We made one stop to gas up, and were back early enough that my belly could last. Miraculously I'm well rested. Obviously I'm quite satisfied.

So after a month of not going anywhere after dark, I've finally gotten a new cell phone. If you're looking for me:

(780) 742-3189

It's crazy to think how busy I am. It's such a different busy than the usual school, school, school. I've got something to do everynight, often more than one thing going on at once. I think I needed this. Tonight though, Christie and I are taking it easy. We're watching a movie. I'm pretty worn out, but feeling okay. I think a night of laid back chillaxin' will refresh me.

The whole crew, in chaos. Camera? It's not our fault we couldn't count well enough to figure out when the picture was getting taken! 

Kiddy B, lookin' fine in Cowboy's new hat. 

Rob, lookin' swell at West Ed. 

Edmonton, good times, who, me? Apparently I haven't been posting lately...lots on the go, thought I'd share these. This one is Laura (one of the UNB crew), Christie (my roomie), and of course me.