LOUD. choices.

Sorry for the delay lovelies... I wrote this segment a while ago and should have posted. BUSY BEE.  More current post is in the works. :) 

CANADARRR. 

“I am so sorry to interrupt”... The flight attendant, gentle, smiling, apologetic places her hand on the side of my seat near my shoulder.

“You have such a beautiful voice, just beautiful!...”

I know what she is going to say and laugh as I reflect on the excited conversation I was just having with the young fellow I was sat next to- My volume building and filling the cabin as I buzz with joyous agitation. My lifelong struggles with volume control. "Loudest Girl Award" at high school prom- the moment I realized my extraordinary loudness... I am minutes from embracing my beloved parents after 9 months. The happiest of holidays.

The flight attendant: “It really is such a beautiful voice, but it just seems to be carrying and I can hear you down the other end of the plane... But just a lovely voice...” She kindly pads her message- “shut the heck up”- with positive. She is genuine.

I know. I am in Canada now.

I do not receive the “Silly-pants American” tone I have become accustom to in the UK, rather, a compliment sandwich, sweetly requesting I moderate my “beautiful” volume.

OH CANADA! 

Choice.

I leapt across the pond for the holidays.  I sat at the kitchen island. Writing. Trying to write. The kitchen island has been the main hub of the Lame house over the years- The place of weeknight family dinners and elaborate mind map creating during university time. It has been the centre of social gatherings since the days of bad-bum high school parties to present day “adult” shindigs...

I feel I need to clarify.

-Adult as in, we are considered adult in age, not that I'm hosting elaborate swingers parties..

-And quotation marks- “...”- to highlight the pause I experience as I contemplate the level of maturity with which my friends and I carry ourselves during these momentous occasions. 

"King's cup", a routine game and social lubricant at Lame house parties- the very serious rule that all participants must crescendo and touch Jay's nipple before taking a drink. 

“Immature is the word boring people use to describe fun people”

(Some Facebooker post. 2012. Facebook)  

As I spent time at the infamous Lame house island over the holidays- eating, drinking, engaging with family and dear old friends, and particularly as I sat on my own reflecting and writing- I was overcome with bitter-sweet feelings.

The history and old roots collided with Miss Lame's current and prospering world. New, self-grown roots.

I was suddenly slapped sharply with the reality of my near future.  Two year visa. 1.5 years experienced. I was not sure where I will be headed come July. 

Discomfort in uncertainty. New, big choices to be made.

“No matter what you choose or where you go you are always going to be missing out on something and friends somewhere else.”

(A fellow traveler- Miss Anne, my Mom and other folks I'm sure...2012. Conversation.)

Had I made different choices, I could be chillin' with my (hypothetical) friend, Vera, in the city of Moscow or playing a fierce game of life-size chess in a park somewhere. Hand-stands on a beach in Australia? Seeing old friends and family more.

Homebody or world explorer- there are beautiful people and potential moments-good and bad- just waiting to be experienced or passed by.  

Next choice, next route. Constant opportunities for growth.

Reflect to gain.

Miss Lame in London England 1.5 years- teaching, growing and making new connections. My current place, a result of a compilation of many small, daily decisions (To begin a chat with a stranger..."falafel or chicken shish?!"... jk.) and big over-arching decisions such as the one I made in grade 11- "I want to be a teacher." And about 2 years ago- "I will go teach in London England."

I love my choices to date and who they have made me. Or rather, what I have made of them.

A bit of both. 

“Trust yourself to make the right decision" 

(Doodle, Niccer. 2012. Wise words.)

 NOTE: Any words that are bolded, italicized, underlined and in red are suggested/preferred words by Mom. She doesn’t like me saying words like fuck, shit, ass (etc) on the internet… I feel these words better illustrate my feelings at times, so just imagine them in there if you will.