I find that when I’m down, it sometimes helps to make a list of things to perk me up. I can’t say that this was something that I came up with on my own, however. I’ll never forget in AP World Literature my senior year in high school when we read “The Pillow Book” by Lady Sei Shonagon, a courtesan during the Heian era in Japan. Miss Shonagon’s book was a mostly personal endeavor (akin to a diary) comprised of lists and musings on court life and her counterparts. In any case, one of our assignments was to come up with our own lists…an activity I’ve embraced ever since.
The general mood of the office is one of thick malaise, hanging heavy on my shoulders like a burly winter coat. The air outside is also heavy—suffused with melancholy, pregnant with laziness, and ripe with rain—weighing on my soul like a sopping wet blanket.
While there is no doubt that happiness truly comes from within, there’s no harm in giving your mood a nudge in the right direction with a little homage to those simple creature comforts. My many thanks to Sei for her keen inspiration.
Things that make my heart beat faster
A cup of tea
A brand new outfit
Posy coloured blush
Quatchi
Humming La Vie En Rose
Reciting the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by TS Eliot
Curling up in my Snuggie
The last five minutes of my Bikram yoga practice
Penguins
Kumquat Dry Soda
A scalding hot bubble bath with a glass of wine and a trashy magazine to keep me company
Receiving packages in the mail
The smell of Spring
Eating candy from the bulk bins while grocery shopping
Puff and Pi
Earl Grey Soy Lattes with a dollop of caramel sauce
Red eye flights
Dateline murder mysteries
Listening to a thunderstorm from under the covers
Kind strangers
Please note this is by no means a complete or immutable list.
5.05.2010
5.04.2010
The Arrival
She greets me like an old time-honored friend—quietly waiting, ever sweet in her immutability. Victoria is quite possibly my favorite accessible luxury. She heals me of my quotidian woes with her quaint meandering streets, majestic architecture and serene harbour. I always sense that I’m in a brighter, squeakier and happier reality when I visit.
The journey began with my alarm bleating at 5:30 in the morning. This time I didn’t groan and flop over indignantly but rather popped up cheerfully and set about preparing for our much anticipated min-break. A taxi arrived as the sun began peering tentatively through the clouds and we were on our way toward Pier 69 amongst the sleepy Friday commuters.
Much to my chagrin a large group of bleary eyed high schoolers stood loitering out in front of the Clipper entrance huddled in groups of twos and threes in fleece blankies. Fortunately, it was far too early for them to be chatting so they proved to be relatively innocuous when it came to upsetting the peaceful hum of my holiday morn.
Everyone patiently filed aboard the Clipper. A high-speed catamaran, the Clipper is a passenger ferry that whisks you away to the outer reaches of the Pacific Northwest (specifically for me: Victoria, BC). Once on board, Brett and I always scramble to the upper deck to procure a section of middle seats, settle in and then promptly order two little lunch-box sized bottles of Freixenet. This go around, our in-flight attendant was so thrilled that I had given her my newest issue of “Us Weekly” she bestowed upon us an extra two bottles, on the house. As we cruised at a speed of 30 knots through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, I passed in and out of consciousness—painting my nails and reading my Nook during the conscious bits.
We arrived two and one half hours after our departure to a crisply cool, sun-soaked Canadian morning. Fortunately, we had no checked luggage so we were able to de-board immediately and breezed through customs. Ambling through those too familiar streets, winding kindly through the quaintness of Victoria, I felt home at last.
The journey began with my alarm bleating at 5:30 in the morning. This time I didn’t groan and flop over indignantly but rather popped up cheerfully and set about preparing for our much anticipated min-break. A taxi arrived as the sun began peering tentatively through the clouds and we were on our way toward Pier 69 amongst the sleepy Friday commuters.
Much to my chagrin a large group of bleary eyed high schoolers stood loitering out in front of the Clipper entrance huddled in groups of twos and threes in fleece blankies. Fortunately, it was far too early for them to be chatting so they proved to be relatively innocuous when it came to upsetting the peaceful hum of my holiday morn.
Everyone patiently filed aboard the Clipper. A high-speed catamaran, the Clipper is a passenger ferry that whisks you away to the outer reaches of the Pacific Northwest (specifically for me: Victoria, BC). Once on board, Brett and I always scramble to the upper deck to procure a section of middle seats, settle in and then promptly order two little lunch-box sized bottles of Freixenet. This go around, our in-flight attendant was so thrilled that I had given her my newest issue of “Us Weekly” she bestowed upon us an extra two bottles, on the house. As we cruised at a speed of 30 knots through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, I passed in and out of consciousness—painting my nails and reading my Nook during the conscious bits.
We arrived two and one half hours after our departure to a crisply cool, sun-soaked Canadian morning. Fortunately, we had no checked luggage so we were able to de-board immediately and breezed through customs. Ambling through those too familiar streets, winding kindly through the quaintness of Victoria, I felt home at last.
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