There is something said about growing up in a small town. Coming back to where you grow up does have its perks. Classmates from highschool are becoming current friends of mine. It is refreshing that, when you grow up, it is almost natural conversation as if we were friends to begin with.
You. Yeah, you. The one with the half-shaven head and denim jacket.
You are there everyday, doing beautiful cover songs with an accompaniment of your guitar skills, echoing so beautifully through the long, tiled hall of the skytrain station.
And everyday that you are there, at 4:30, I always end up giving you a loonie or two because of how amazing you are. Seriously, I’m running out of change because of you.
I honestly believe that you can make a living making people happy. I can see why people are giving you more bills than coins at your guitar duffel bag.
If you see her, at the Vancouver Central Station, give her not only your change, but your heart as well. You will fall in love. I promise you.
Last night I was in a room full of smart, intellectual students that we’re all in the sciences and engineering. Once again, I felt as being the only individual with an arts degree that they felt the need to whittle down my hard work and accomplishments as something they saw as easy. Simple. To be honest, I felt marginalized and belittled by off-hand comments that I’m sure meant nothing. Since everyone there was a student, education, and more likely - where you were getting your education from, played in the factor of all the comments I was getting that night. Academically, I have never felt so dumb amongst a group of people in a very, very long time.
It was a great time at the Wenman home. Between the warm welcome and bittersweet goodbye, it has felt as though nothing has really changed. The weekend, it felt as though we went back in time, during the more beautiful days in Victoria. The cherry blossoms downtown were sprinkled with fresh drips of rain; the grass was much greener on this side of the coast.