On Looking Back at 2015

This has been a really transformative year for me, and I think it really deserves a look back.

At the start of the year, I was preparing to move to another country. I had already downsized my living quarters and started giving away all my non-essential stuff: books, DVDs, small appliances, collectibles, etc. Even if the job offer wasn't official yet, it was more or less a formality. I was apartment hunting in Bristol and SO excited.

As we all know, that did happen. I got the job (signed the contract and everything!), but due to an oversight by my new employer, found out that I couldn't get a work visa at all. I'd already quit my job here, terminated my lease cut and basically pried myself from my foundations here, but luckily, I was able to smooth all of that out and set everything to rights (except my dog, who had already been adopted by someone and I couldn't take back).

It really sucked, but the strangest thing was that I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. People around me kind of walked on eggshells for awhile, knowing that moving to England had been a dream of mine for half my life. While I was sad, I was far from devastated. I had an overwhelming feeling that it just wasn't meant to be, that I still had things to do here in Ottawa.

And I was right! And really, a lot of it has to do with cosplay.

Even though I didn't plan any major cosplays, because I didn't plan on going to any cons this year (because I was planning on being overseas) I did a couple of last-minute cosplays that, while not fancy, were good place-holders. And instead, I was able to focus on building up another cosplay areas instead: socializing. Being naturally introverted, cosplaying has always been about craftsmanship for me. But this year, I spent far less time crafting alone in my apartment, and much more crafting remotely with other cosplayers via an online cosplay hangouts, or with others at a secondary workshop (ie my friend's place, lol). And not only that, but I reached that point where I was seeing the same people at cons for the third or fourth time and deciding "Hey, maybe we should be friends!"

I realized at PopExpo in November that for the first time in a very long time, I was really looking forward to seeing people. Like, actual flesh and blood, in person, not just through a screen, IRL people. And not just that, people were happy to see me! Around every corner was a familiar face in glorious cosplay with a beaming smile and open arms for hugs (sometimes awkwardly, depending on the costume, lol). And I did wonderful things like plan a group cosplay and learn a new board game with two completely separate groups of friends (I was the little overlapping bit on the social Venn diagram, which was kind of neat). And even though it was a completely ridiculous environment (in the overall scheme of western culture), for once, I felt normal.

And of course, there's the fact that I did my first out-of-town cons this year - twice, in fact! I got to basically live my fantasy by being a booth babe for BioWare at Montreal Comiccon, as Commander Shepard, while hanging with my favourite characters from the game (ie. some AMAZING cosplayers), then being thanked by the Bioware crew and given some merch and invited to come back next year! *melt* Then, venturing a little further afield to Hal-Con in Halifax to spend some time at the con with my bestie who moved away last year.

And with all these new friends came new interests. I've expanded my hobbies into gaming and comics and I'm building a computer. I've added a handful of new fandoms to my repertoire, and opened my mind to dozens more that I wouldn't have considered a few years ago.

Ans as all this goodness was working on me, I was shaking the cobwebs out of my brain. I started thinking less about the things that were hurting me (which is pretty much just limited to my single-ness, but that's a big one) and more about good things, like how much I loved my new friends, and how maybe I was worth putting on a bit of makeup in the morning, and maybe my sexuality was a little more flexible than I thought, and that I really wanted to fit/look better in my costumes, so a personal trainer was in order.

That last one was a big one. I got a trainer in September, and I've managed to stick with it since then (for the most part, lol) . Four months of tracking calories, working out 5 days per week, and in the past month, adding more protein in the hopes of building some muscle. For cosplay, of course, ha ha! I have even signed up for a class for the first time in years! One that interests me, and is not too far away! So I start swordfighting in 3 weeks. ;)

2015 is the year of "The Force Awakens" and I think that's pretty appropriate descriptor of my life this year. This year, I feel like I'm starting to wake up. It's as if the failed England move was the shock to my system that was needed to jumpstart it. I'm motivated, happy, and I feel alive again after years of stumbling in a fog. My life took my arm, pulled me on the floor, and said "SHUT UP AND DANCE!!!"



And something tells me 2016 will be even better.... Happy new year everyone - see you in the future!

A Cosplay Love Letter

Last year on Valentine's day, I wrote "A Browncoats Love Letter" to express my affection and gratitude to my newfound friends of Browncoats Burlesque (and by extension, the burlesque community). And today, while my mind wandered on a long bus ride, I was thinking about how special my cosplay friends have come to mean to me as well, so I present "A Cosplay Love Letter"

Now, I've written many times about what cosplay means to me, and, being the introvert I am, the focus tends on myself and my own little world. But an unexpected byproduct of doing cosplay has been the people I've met at cons and cosplay events. For the first time since high school drama club, I started meeting people I had stuff in common with.

For the first little while, I did cosplay completely on my own. Like most of things I do, I just naturally did it alone and without help or company. I made it up as I went along. Then at every con, I met more people, more cosplayers. For a long time, I never wanted to go out anymore, and the idea of being around other people scared the bejeezus out of me because I had gotten so used to being poked fun of and even ridiculed for my hobbies and interests. But going to cons and meeting the wonderful people there made me actually WANT to go out to see them more.

And now, half my friends list is other geeks/cosplayers, most of whom I met in the past year or two. And the friendship I've been able to cultivate with many of you over Facebook and a few conventions per year has been immeasurably precious to me. I love having people that love the things I love, who understand my obscure nerdy jokes/references, and who joyfully celebrate weirdness in all its forms. And the cosplay community is so wonderfully open about sharing is wealth of knowledge that I went from my first con where I went in MacGyver-ed papier-maché armour to Masquerade Best-in-Show in just one year.

Words cannot express how amazing it feels when I'm wandering around a con floor and I run into someone I know in an ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR new costume. And I feel so much pride when I see one of my buddies winning a Masquerade prize or getting public recognition for their cosplay greatness that my heart just about bursts.

It means so much to me to have a group of people who not only won't judge me for my fandoms, but will most often than not, be there right along with me, jumping up and down and clapping like an excited 5-year-old. Your acceptance and kindness had become so much a part of who I am that I can't imagine doing cosplay without you now. Y'ALL ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY INTRICATELY CRAFTED COSPLAY WINGS!!!! Your talent keeps me striving for greater cosplay goals and your warmth and genuine camaraderie keeps me sane.

And I love each and every one of you! <3

On Sensory Deprivation

So I tried out a sensory deprivation tank last night, and a lot of people have asked me how it went, so I decided to document my experience here!

I went to Tank Action at 1663 Carling Ave in Ottawa ON. They have two tanks available, and the owner, Ryan is super nice. And the really awesome thing is that you can book your appointment and pay for it online. No fuss!

Here's their website: www.tankactionspa.com

The Basics + Pregame:
When I got there, I filled in my personals and signed a basic medical waiver. Then're I was escorted to the tank room. There was a rainfall shower (God, I love those), complete with shampoo, conditioner and shower gel, a table with various sundries (earplugs, moisturizer, qtips), towels, and hooks for my clothes. I was given a quick rundown of the process (shower, float, shower), the timer was set, and I was left to my own devices.

One really nice thing is that I was able to set the mood right away by shutting the lights off while I showered. The room had a few dim blue LEDs and the showerhead had blue and red LEDs that were just light enough to make my way around. It's relaxing and (I think) helps ease the transition into the complete black of the tank.

I knew I had product in my hair, so I quickly washed it, popped in some earplugs (optional, but I don't like water in my ears) and headed over the the mystical tank

The Tank

The tank itself was 8'x5'x5' with a hatch on one end (picture above - pic taken from the Tank Action website) and filled with body-temp, ultra-salted water. What I didn't expect was that the water was SO salted that it could scarcely be called water anymore. It was a little slimy, but so pleasantly warm that I didn't even care. I climbed into what was about a foot of water (maybe a bit more?), and shut the hatch.

Objective Experiences
I say "objective" here because, I think they are what most people will experience if they do this.

Since the water is so salty, my body immediately floated. I had to starfish to brace myself against the sides until the water settled, but once it did and I let go of the sides, it was a pretty neat feeling. It also took a couple of minutes to find the right arm position. The owner had made a few suggestions earlier, but eventually, I settled on hands interlocked, cradling the back of my head.

Since the water and air is body temperature, once the water stops moving, you feel weightless. Gravity no longer exists. Now, this is taking into account that I was able to relax fairly quickly, which some may not be able to do on the first go. Apparently, some need a of couple tries in the tank before being able to fully relax. I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess?

So once my body was sorted, I looked to my senses:
Sight: sight was right was out - I eventually opened my eyes and there was zero difference (though mentally, there was, which I'll touch on later).
Smell: There was a slightly unpleasant smell due to the salt, but you get used to that pretty quick and it becomes a non-issue.
Touch: as long as you stay still and don't touch the sides of the tank, you feel absolutely nothing. It's both eerie and fantastic. And funny thing: you don't want to touch anything either. The need vanishes.
Taste: Don't do it. I accidentally got a drop of it in my mouth. Blech.
Sound: The only sounds are the sounds of your own body, which become intensely loud. Your breathing, heartbeat and in my case, occasional tummy gurgle, can become a point of focus, or even a distraction.

Subjective Experiences:
This is where it gets weird.

The thing about sensory deprivation is that it basically strips away your senses - your body - and the focus is solely on your mind. And everyone's mind is different, so everyone's experience will be different is that aspect.

I went into this thinking it would either be really relaxing, or very trippy. And it was both.

I was in the tank for about 75 minutes. But to me, time turned all wibby-wobby. Sometimes it felt like I'd been in there forever, and sometimes, time didn't even exist.

A lot of things happen when you're alone with your thoughts without the distraction of the physical or, you know, time itself. So here is a collection (in no particular order) of things that I remember doing, thinking, feeling or seeing/hearing(?) while I was in the dark:

-focusing only on my breathing or heartbeat (okay this was actually the first thing I did, but it didn't take long for my mind to take over)
-being at the dawn of the time in the "primordial ooze"
-floating alone in the middle of the ocean
-the song "Bodies in Space" from Hair
-hearing a voice speaking to me in my mind - well, not "a voice", it was my own voice. My own voice speaking to me, giving me advice, both general life advice and romantic advice (heh, heh)
-the sensation of slowly floating upwards, but not being able to go further than the ceiling of the tank and a fleeting moment of frustration when I felt like I was pressed against the top of it. Also at this particular moment, the feeling of having a veil being over my face and wanting it to be pulled away, like there was something/someone important to be seen on the other side.
-travelling through a starfield
-often I would just marvel at the inky vastness of what I was feeling, particularly when my eyes were open. When my eyes were closed, I felt like I was bodiless in my own mind. When they were open, I felt like I was a body and mind in infinity.
-twitching my arms and legs from time to time just to ensure that they were, indeed, still there

So yeah, there was a lot going in my mind during that time. A lot or weirdness. But it was never frightening. It could be that I've always been very comfortable in my own mind, though.

The Aftermath:
The beeper on the timer went off, and I heard it from inside the tank, so it was SUPER loud when I opened the hatch. Which sucked. I was really glad I decided to turn the light off before getting in, because I think the loud beeping PLUS harsh lights would have seriously damaged my calm.

The first thing I noticed was the cold, so I hurried into the shower, the glorious rainfall shower and stayed there probably longer than I needed to, but whatever. It felt so good. I washed all the salt out of my hair, dried off and went back to the lobby. The first thing I noticed was that I felt SO RELAXED.

The owner asked how it went, and I didn't even want to speak, just smile dreamily, but I forced myself to speak. Noticing that I was far less enthusiastic as my usual self... I was. Just. So. Mellow. Outside, on the busy street, the sounds of traffic seemed deafening, much it was a minor annoyance. My whole body was ultra-relaxed - let the world worry for me for just now. Even witnessing an arrest on the bus home couldn't shake my calm. It was handled appropriately and professionally, so no worries....

All in all, it was a great experience that I would definitely do again. So whether you're looking for relaxation or meditation or just a neat experience, sensory deprivation tanks have my seal of approval!

On Cosplay Identities

Now that I've been cosplaying for a couple years, I'm starting to see a trend in my choice of costumes: Brienne of Tarth, Ronan Dex, Starbuck, Commander Shepard...

Elsa was a bit of an outlier, but more on that later, ha ha.

But first, let's go back a little further back

I started making costumes in Jr High. It started with Halloween: Dad said I was too old for him to buy me costumes, so I said "Fine! I'll make my own!" It started with ransacking my Mum's choir robes and old bridesmaids dresses, them moved on to Value Village runs....and as soon as I learned now to use a sewing machine in high school, Bouclair became my mecca.

I fell in love with historical costuming. I wanted to wear dresses with long skirts and corsets. Why? Because they made me feel pretty in a time when I didn't really feel pretty. Costuming filled a void in my life. it allowed me to feel glamorous and elegant for a brief time when I usually felt awkward and plain.

When I discovered cosplay a couple of years ago, I didn't really think about what I was choosing. I would just see a character I related to and then make that cosplay. All my cosplays are really an expression of myself, so when I wanted to channel the spirit of a character I admired, I had the chance to become them.


Elsa was the only cosplay I made purely to see if I could win the Ottawa Comiccon Masquerade. I chose it because I thought it would be popular and the judges would like it. Well, I was right, because I won best in show with it. But the funny thing is that I never felt completely at ease when I wore it. I'm already kind of a Disney princess in real life, so dressing as one didn't give me any satisfaction. BUT, it did give me the opportunity to learn that when I really apply myself, I can achieve great things. So there's that.

But what I really want to focus on is the overwhelming trend that I'm seeing in my choice of cosplay when left to my own devices. Because to me, cosplay isn't about winning awards or recognition (although I do try to make my costumes to high standards so that if I do compete, I can put up a good fight, ha ha ha!). To me, cosplay is about being able to channel a persona that I wish I was.

What do Brienne, Ronon, Starbuck and Shepard, have in common? It's pretty obvious. They're warriors. They're fearless. And in some key aspects my life, that's what I desperately wish I had.

Now, Commander Shepard is my very favourite cosplay. I wear her and it feels so natural, like I'm not wearing a cosplay, but just another version of myself. And I feel different when I'm in that N7 armour. For example, *I* wouldn't have the courage to tell a boy that I have feelings for him, but Shepard would have NO such troubles, now would she? Of course not! She saved the galaxy from extinction and romances whoever she wants and everybody loves her (except for a few batarians, maybe).

So for a couple hours at a convention, I can pretend that I'm not the awkward introverted girl who can barely talk to men in general, let alone to a guy she's attracted to, and instead become someone with courage and conviction, and who can kick ass if someone wrongs her. Not just that, but someone that others admire, rather than "that weird nerdy girl" that people point at and laugh.

My cosplays are so intimately linked to who I am now. I mean, being a part of a group cosplay is a different story. That's just for funsies. But when choosing my own solo cosplay, it's really about becoming someone I wish I could be, and hoping that some of that badassery will rub off on me.

And I love it when I see other cosplayers who have the same connection with their cosplays. Some people are incredibly talented and make impressive costumes and props, but they still look like people in costumes. And others, I wonder if they feel the same as I do, that their cosplays are an extension of themselves, because they look like they belong in their cosplays, like they *are* they characters, regardless of their actual craftsmanship.

Yes, my cosplay identities are a way to cope with my own little insecurities, but at the same time, they allow me moments of power that I carry with me long after I've left the con and put away my armour.

On Fathers - Part II (Daddy and Papa)

I couldn't let Father's Day go by without giving a honourable mention to two very special fathers in my life.

It takes a lot a courage to ask a woman to give up her eggs for an altruistic egg donation. It's basically saying saying, 'Hey lady, can I have your kid, but you can't raise it? And you will potentially watch me raise your kid?" It has the potential to go very badly. Not just that, but to then turn to another woman and say, "Hey, can I just...borrow your body for 9 months to incubate my baby?"

My friend had some serious cojones when he decided that he wanted a baby. Your average straight couple doesn't think twice when planning for a baby: barring any fertility issues, sex = baby. But for a single gay man, shit gets complicated. When he asked if I would consider donating my eggs, I didn't even have to think about it. Of course I could! It's not like I'm using them!

Of course, we subsequently went through all kinds of discussions and psych/legal counselling at the fertility center before everything was finalized. But in my mind, there was never any doubt that I wanted to help. Nor was there every any doubt about how much he wanted to be a father.

I was a fairly gruelling process from what I heard and I was only a small part of it (hormones, blood tests, hormones, blood bests, hormones, blood tests, suck the eggs out, BYE!). It was expensive, he had to organize the reproductive cycles of two different women in two different cities with the fertility clinic in a third city, and still carry on with his own day-to-day as the owner of a business. Struggles that the majority of baby-making couples can't even begin to comprehend. But not only did he do it, he did it cheerfully. Every time I jokingly asked "So, it it worth it?" He enthusiastically replied with a resounding YES!!!! Especially when my egg donation resulting in a staggering number of fertilized embryos (12 in total from 20 harvested eggs) AND the implantation (with a single embryo) took on the first try.

So his courage and perseverance paid off, because now, his dream is a reality, and he's got the child he so wanted. And so, I think that Father's Day has an extra-special meaning because it's wasn't just a matter of sex = baby for him. His son is, I think, cherished all the more for the fact that he wasn't so easy to bring into the world. And that deserves celebration, because as long as I've known him, he's always been a passionate career man, but I think being "Daddy" is the best job title in the world in his opinion :)

But I can't talk about "Daddy" without mentioning "Papa." I don't know my friend's husband quite as well. They met while the IVF process was underway, but by the time I met him, they were in a serious relationship, and I was glad to know that the wee one would have even more love surrounding him. And soon, boyfriend became fiancee, and a few months after the birth, husband.

Biologically, this kid is my son, but I'm not his mother. My friend's husband is not related to the baby in any way, but he is, *without a doubt*, his father. And I think this is what being a parent truly is.

Fatherhood is not what's on your birth certificate, or what's encoded in your DNA. A father is who tucks you in, reads you bedtime stories, protects you, teaches you, provides for you. And so, Daddy and Papa, you embody what it is to be a father, regardless of DNA. And for that, I'm grateful, both for myself, and for the precious little one that you brought into the world.

On Fathers - Part I (An Open Letter to My Father)

Dear Dad,

This morning, I saw this video:



I won't lie.... It made me cry a little. Mostly because it's an emotional little video, and I'm pretty sure that was the intended response. But also because it made me think about the fact that today is Father's Day and I've felt a little father-less the last few years. I miss you!

But let's start with the video - it's encouraging kids to tell their father's why they're grateful. I know that a normal kid would just pick up a phone and call. But let's face it, I'm not a normal kid. I'm not so good with words when I talk, and I feel like I can better express myself through writing, and I want to do this justice.

First of all, I'm grateful for your strength. It's a quiet kind of resiliency that carried us through what I'm pretty sure was a terribly turbulent family situation. I'm still not completely sure what happened through those rough years, first when you and Mum were going through stuff, then when we were not terribly stable financially....but that's the point. You carried that burden and didn't, as some weaker parents do, try to unload their problems on their children. We were vaguely aware that times were tough - just enough to know that we couldn't have brand-name clothes or the newest greatest thing - but as children, we weren't subjected to adult problems. I'm so grateful that you took on those problems and let us be kids.

I'm grateful for your particular brand of morality. While we don't always agree on everything when it comes to world views, you raised me to have a strong moral compass. And you did it without forcing religion or political views on me. You taught me that knowing right from wrong, common sense, respect, critical thinking, and just plain being a good person trumps any dogmatic affiliation. Your own religious and political views were set and never changed as far as I know, but you encouraged me to explore, and blaze my own path. Oh sure, you made fun of some of my flakier claims, but it was never real ridicule, but a challenge to think critically about what I was claiming to believe and how it would affect me and those around me. You didn't seem to mind that I had my head in the clouds, as long as I kept my feet on the ground. And for that, I thank you.

I'm grateful for your cooking. I'm really sad that I don't get it on the regular anymore. I know that you gave us the recipes for Christmas, but it's just not the same as when you cook it. It was cooked with love.

I'm grateful that you didn't raise us as girly-girls. You once apologized to me for not teaching us more about makeup and clothes and boys when we were growing up. You compared us to our stepmother's girls: pretty, social, stylish and never lacking for male attention, and felt bad that we didn't have the same chance to shine in those areas. But instead, you taught us to be independent, resourceful, self-assured, and creative. Sure, I'm not the most stylish girl on the block, but I win awards at costume competitions! And my everyday makeup game may not turn the boy's heads, but I make jaws drop on the burlesque stage. Sure, there were a few years where I grumped when I couldn't have the latest fashions, but I'm grateful that you taught me that what I look like is not what defines me as a person.

Really, I am who I am because of you. Oh sure, I see a lot of Mom in me, too. But my core - my strength, resiliency, resourcefulness, self-respect, determination, and so much more - was learned from you. No father is perfect, but you are are absolute credit to fathers everywhere, and I hope that I ever marry and have kids, I can only hope that he's as loving a father as you.

I love you, Daddy!

Your eldest daughter,
~Leah

On The Friendzone

For the past 10 years, I've lamented the fact that I can't seem to find that sweet spot between one-night-stand and the friendzone.  

I've been frustrated that every time I develop romantic feelings for a fellow, he never sees me as anything but a friend.  And then I give up, because society tells me that once you're in the friendzone, you're SOL.

First of all, that's a problem,  because it's robbed me of potentially good male friends (because I DO think men and women can be friends). But that's a discussion for another day....

More importantly, though,  I've come to the realization that I WANT to be in the friendzone. I want to be friends before romance.  I believe that it's so important to have that foundation of genuine companionship before adding sex into the mix.

Now, I think that attraction is there or not from the get-go, but I also think that romance doesn't need to be the focus for a relationship to develop. Is that the view of the population at large? Probably not. Are there others that think the same?  There must be!

Now, you may be wondering why the sudden concern about the friendzone. Well, I was watching "Community" and thinking that my ideal relationship would be basically what Troy and Abed have,  but with romance added in, haha!

And something tells me that I wouldn't be able to pick up some bro in a bar and invite him to build a blanket fort with me.

So rather than worry about being banished to the friendzone, why not embrace it? I'll make more friends, and eventually (and hopefully) find a guy with whom I can build blanket forts, go to InspectiCon, watch cartoons, and play in the Dreamatorium AND where he still wants to kiss me afterwards, ha ha!

On Genre Bending

Part of the whole "not moving to England any more" thing has been a drastic change of mindset. I kind of purged what was left of my old ways of thinking (and most of the stuff from my apartment, lol) and fully embraced my liberated-inner-nerd lifestyle.

I've been trying to get rid of someone the ways of thinking that were just uselessin my life, or holding me back in some way. One of them is that I'm still hung up on some of my old pretentiousnesses (is that even a word? Oh well, it is now :P). The past week has been a big one for me: I've been binge-watching "Friends" on Netflix.

I know that doesn't seem like much, but I always saw that show as something that "the masses" did. All the girls in my peer group watched it. All the girls who teased me and bullied me and who were prettier and more popular than me all watched it...So I decided that I was just too good to watch "Friends." THAT show was for the masses, and since I was rising above the bullies, I was above the, show too. And it seems like and odd show to pick on, but "Friends" was really *THE* show of my age group. EVERYONE watched it as they were coming of age, and it ran for 10 years - basically my peers grew up with it.

So I've always avoided it like the plague. It was a microcosm of the social life I just never fit into.

And now that I'm halfway though it, and my stigma has passed, it's time to move on to the next media "Get over it" move...

Because as silly as it seems, "Friends" is just a bridge to the next step for something I've been avoiding for YEARS, and I'm not sure why: the superhero genre.

Maybe I just had exposure to some bad movies when I was younger. Maybe I always felt like I "wasn't allowed" to get into the genre because I don't read the comic books (some nerds can be funny that way). Heck! Maybe it's because "superheroes were for boys", and I didn't feel welcome in the boys club or I never had a guy friend to introduce me to the genre! But for whatever reason, I never got into it.

And by the time I full entered the nerd world where EVERYONE loves superheroes, I was just lacking in the fan knowledge, so rather than look a noob who knows nothing, I just avoided the genre altogether and focused on the genres I DID know about.

BUT NO MORE!!!!!! It's time I gave heroes a chance! If I can devote 5 seasons of 25 episodes of "Friends" to getting over myself, surely I can give Marvel and/or DC the same chance. So I'm going back, waaaay back to 1998 and working my way through the Marvel films, starting with Blade. I've already seen the first three X-Men (which I enjoyed, more or less) and .... two (?) Spiderman movies (which were terrible). But From what I hear, most of them are pretty good - I know The Avengers are causing a lot of ruckus right now ;)

So while I doubt I'll ever become a HUGE fan of sitcoms or superheroes (I'm pretty set in my sci-fi ways), at very least I can stop avoiding them and start appreciating them. Who knows? I may even start reading comics! Ha ha ha!

On Purging the Heart

Today I finished something that I started over the weekend: purging my romantic past.

As I clear out my apartment in preparation for my upcoming relocation overseas, I find myself having to part with keepsakes and knick-knacks that I just always assumed that I would keep. This weekend, I finally grew a quad and faced the collection I'd been dreading for quite a while.

I've been hemming and hawing over my 10-year-old box of keepsakes and love letters from my first boyfriend for several years. Part of me says "Keep it! It was a lovely time in your life! Why not keep those love letters to read when you're old and grizzled to remind you of your glorious Springtime? Something to show your grandkids!" the other part says "Toss it! You need to move on. Keeping that stuff will keep you living in the past, and you need look to the future! You will make wonderful new memories if you just give yourself the chance!"

Whenever I thought of that box of stuff, words from my favourite comedian, Dylan Moran always came to mind:

And to aid that memory, the woman would open a hatbox full of precious things: the Curly-Wurly wrapper that meant SO MUCH!!! The bundle of letters too painful to look at OR throw away. They have to be kept so they can never be looked at!



And that's precisely what I had. And it was as ridiculous as he made it sound. But I never had the heart to throw any of it out, simply because that Curly-Wurly wrapper DID mean so much to me! Not just that, but break up letters and arguments. I kept them to reassure myself that even in the face of adversity and heartbreak, I was able to stay level-headed and reasonable and kind. It was my way of coping with heartache.

But this weekend, I was faced with the fact that I just can't take it all with me. And it's time to move on, both romantically and in the greater sense of my life. So I decided that it was time to start anew. Not only would that box of memories go, but so would all the other bits and bobs saved from previous romantic encounters. All the emails, love notes, break up letters, EVERYTHING.

So on Saturday, I emptied out the box of trinkets and keepsakes. The nicer things went into the goodwill box, the rest went into the trash. The love letters, though, I couldn't bear to throw away. It seemed disrespectful....So I read them all one last time, then took them down to the park to one of the firepits and burned them. It seemed more poetical that way.

Today, I finished the job by going through my email accounts and deleting everything that I'd kept from my exes, good and bad. 15 years worth of keepsake emails from my first boyfriend in high school all the way to my last lover a year and a half ago.

As of today, I am a clean slate: no baggage, no expectations. I'm not going to look back any longer, because there's nothing to look back at anymore. The memories will stay, but I'm no longer anchored to the past by physical, tangible things.

There's nowhere to go but up. To infinity and beyond. :)

On Personality Traits

As I'm clearing out my apartment, I'm coming across some fun stuff, including my elementary school report cards (including teacher comments), and it's funny how some things never change. In Kindergarten, I had one teacher, but for subsequent years, the comments are given by both the French and English teachers at the end of each term. I've provided a selection here:



KINDERGARTEN:

"well-adjusted to school and class routine"
"gets along well with her peers, though at times she tends to be a little 'bossy.' With time, she will learn to use this more positively"
"a happy verbal little girl"
"French oral skills are very good"
"very motivated to learn to read as she had grasped reading mechanisms"
"Has surpassed all objectives for Grade 1"

BONUS:
Notes on the back in my Mum's handwriting:
Do you think her lisp will be detrimental in pronouncing French words? Should CHEO forms be sent in
Does she show signs of being bored?
DO you consider yourself a hard marker?



GRADE 1:

Sorry, this year's report is missing - Oh well!



GRADE 2:

"Excels in writing original stories, also in dong artistic work"
"Most of the time, Leah is pleasant and friendly"
"Always willing to share her stories and information with her classmates"
"developed very good reading skills"
"should improve her social skills in working with classmates and working in group activities"
"needs occasional reminders to stay on task"
"very sweet and creative child"
"reads well above grade level"
"I have enjoyed the way in which Leah expresses her individuality"



GRADE 3:

"works well independently"
"frequently needs to be reminded to stay on task and not fool around in class"
"She has occasionally disturbed others by teasing"
"A proficient and enthusiastic reader"
"Has difficulty focusing on her writing and needs a high level of personal motivation to produce her best work"
"She has to put more effort and interest into her work"
"Leah's written work is not indicative of her ability. She prefers to read above anything else and often has difficulty focusing on other work"
"I'm trying to help Leah become more organized"
"She is a bright girl with some very good ideas"



GRADE 4:

"Leah certainly has abilities, but because she is too often busy at doing something else, or not cooperating, these skills are not fully exploited"
"She must start working at her full potential"
"She is an interested and cheerful student"
"She has great ideas"
"Leah is encouraged to stick to challenging novels"
"Leah is a wonderful writer (...) uses descriptive language"
"has become more attentive and self-motivated"
"a strong, fluent reader - she even reads with expression"
"occasionally off task in class drawing or playing - I would like her to take writing more seriously"



GRADE 5:

"many areas could be improved in putting more efford into your work habits
"Delightful learner and good participant"
"an avid reader (particularly of science material)"
"Excellent ideas enthusiasm and very good progress in reading and writing. However, work is sloppy and projects are poorly organized and presented"
"I agree with [teacher above] regarding organization and presentation! It's been poor and deceiving! You are such a capable girl!"
"The best of luck for grade 6 (read in French)"
"I will miss your enthusiasm"



GRADE 6:

"doing well in all areas of French program"
"with more concentration on the task on hand, your results will improve"
"an enthusiastic student"
"creative, cooperative and a helpful addition"
"must work on keeping her desk and working area tidy and organized"
"continues to be a diligent student with a keen interest"
"must keep working at keeping herself organized"
"makes careless mistakes because of her rush to finish"
"You are very special!"


It's funny how even as an adult some of these things are still problems in my life. I'm disorganized and untidy (my desk at work will attest to that), I'm enthusiastic and keenly interested in the world around me, I love to read and write (but only on my own terms), and my motivation is extremely variable (but when it's on, great things happen!)

On the Importance of Friends

Okay, so my Part II of the "Turning 30" post is a bit delayed - but I'll get to it, I promise!! For now, though, I feel the need to post this snippet of funny.

Anybody who knows me knows that the last few weeks have been really stressful, as I'm waiting to hear if my application for a job in the UK has been successful or not. My life has basically been on hold for the past few months while I wait for the confirmation or denial, but the past week has been especially difficult.

I've been informed that the recruiting process is done and the recommendations have been made - a week ago - but everything is still being "signed off on." First of all, that is maddeningly neutral. I have no idea if things are looking favourable or not for me actualy getting this job, so I can't even confidently prepare myself mentally one way or the other.

In the meantime though, Ottawa Comic-Con AND the next major Browncoats Burlesque show are in May, but I can't confirm or deny my participation in either until I know if I got this job. Not to mention the whole "possibly packing up my life and moving to another country" thing...

Needless to say, I've been a LITTLE stressed.

Okay, a lot stressed.

And maybe I've responded to this stress by attempting an undergraduate degree in plenetary studies through opencourseware from MIT starting with biology 101. *ADENINETHYAMINECYTOSINEGUANINENUCLEOTIDESCHIRALITYPHOSPHOLIPIDSHYDROGENBONDSOXIDEGROUPS**crazed laughter*

Also, I've been venting to my friends. My poor, long-suffering friends, who have started to stress out by proxy. I was venting this morning to one friend through email, and I must have been getting particularly crazy, beacuse her eventual response was "LEAH BREATHE"

But I was too far gone. And the only way to express my feeling was through imagery, so I created this in my frustration:

...and then I laughed. And felt a lot better. And I assume she laughed, too because her response was all in caps.

And it reminded me how important it is to have friends to talk to, and be weird with and, more importantly, who understand your weirdness. I mean, I have people I can be weird around, but they don't understand it.

Now, when I think about my stress regarding this job in England, I think of being crushed by a giant hippo butt...and somehow, I feel just a little better. :P

On Looking Back and Moving Forward (Part 1)

Well, tomorrow I'll be leaving my twenties behind and entering the dirty thirties. And so, it seems fitting that I take a look back at my twenties, because I've packed a ridiculous amount of life in the past ten years

EDUCATION:
It seems right to start with education because when I was twenty, I was still in school. I was in my first year of university, having completed two years of CEGEP. For you non-Quebequers, CEGEP is a post-secondary school we that we have here that's meant to either bridge high school and university OR train you for a trade to put you right into the work force. It was the first time I was at school with people that I hadn't know for most of my life. CEGEP was for the most part, an extension of high school, so even if all of my high school friends weren't in my program, they were still at the school so we all still hung out at spares and at lunch. But at university, I actually had to make new friends, and that was kind of scary.

In my first year of university, I was all about my major: theatre. I was SO excited to be in school studying what I was passionate about. I was also doing a major in classical studies, but I considered that my "fall back" degree. I was all about theatre. Sadly, in that first year, I also realized that theatre wasn't like it was in high school. The reality of it sucked and I wasn't up to the challenge. It was hard, cut-throat, elitist, snobby world, and a simple sweet girl like me just didn't belong there. I wasn't making friends, I wasn't being cast in anything, and while my grades were all quite good (A- average), I wasn't thriving. It seems I could only succeed in theatre in theory, and that wasn't good enough for me.

Over the next year, my theatre courseload gradually shrank and my classics one grew as I switch from a double major to a major in classics with a minor in theatre. I began to resent the theatre department. But at the same time, I discovered the Celtic studies department. I started to learn Gaelic under a professor who would become a dear friend and role model to me. She believed in me at a time when I felt that few other people did, and I thrived because of it. She helped my find me roots and find myself, and I'll always be grateful for that. Even if today, we don't see eye to eye on everything, I still consider her to be one of my dearest friends.

By my final year of university, I was all about classics. I dropped all my remaining theatre classes, and ended up even cancelling my theatre degree altogether (with only a couple credits remaining for the diploma!). They screwed me over royally, and I didn't want to have anything to do with them. But that's okay, because I was chin-deep in Latin and ancient history/literature...and loving it. Oh, also Celtic studies, but most of the Celtic studies courses were taught by a professor who was notoriously difficulty to learn from, so those classes were hit or miss - but I still loved the subject matter. They were basically an extension of the classics courses, but from a different part of the world.

In the end, I graduated cum laude (yay!) with a Bachelor of Arts in Classical Studies. I would have loved to do a Masters, but I couldn't afford it. But I found other ways to fed my hungry brain!!

While I Korea in 2008, I lived across the street from a Buddhist temple, so I went to weekly study groups and monthly Dharma talks there to soak up the culture and expand my consciousness. And in 2012, Coursera came on the scene with free university courses. Now, the classes offered by Coursera are of varying degrees of difficulties, so I was not always able to complete them due to life getting in the way, but since I signed up in 2012, I've completed "Introduction to Pharmacology", "Archaeology's Dirty Little Secrets", "Fantasy and Science Fiction: Our Human Mind, Our Modern World" and I'm currently doing "Astrobiology and the Search for Extraterrestrial Life." Plus a handful of other half-finished science and sociology courses. So I've been able to keep learning, even if my formal education is done. :)

I didn't end up working in a career relating to my field of study, but to me, it doesn't really matter. I learned so many other skills in university that made those three years worth the time, effort and money (which I'm still paying for) worth it.

ROMANCE
Another important feature of that first year of my twenties was the ending of my first romantic relationship - Man it seems like forever ago..... It had been petering out for while by then, but we sat down and made it official some time that year. We had been together off and on (but mostly on) since I was 15, and so, while I knew it was coming, it was quietly devastating. Some people who knew me during that time might remember those years and think he was a jerk for breaking up with me so many times (because, to be honest, it was usually him doing the dumping during those "off" times). But he was never cruel, or abusive. He was a teenage boy who didn't know what he wanted, and even as a young girl, I knew that and couldn't really blame him for being young a stupid, ha ha! And since he wasn't being cruel, I always just let it happen, and always took him back - It's what I wanted, too.

And so, while some people were happy that it was over for good between us, I mourned it. I can't imagine a better first love, though (unfortunately?) it set the bar really high and I'm still, here at the cusp of my thirties, having a hard time finding a guy that will treat me as well as my first boyfriend did.

It wasn't until I was in my last year of university, when I started I started to travel, when I felt like I finally got over my boyfriend and started seeing other men. And be "seeing" I mean "sleeping with." 22 was the beginning of my very brief sexual revolution.

My first adventure abroad was where I had my first sexual encounter since my first boyfriend (to whom I lost my virginity and had, to date, been my only partner). I'm not gonna lie, it was disappointing, but I'd been celibate for almost two years at that point, and so I really didn't care. And besides, it made for a hilarious story (for those who have hear it, lol!). However, I ended up having another encounter later in that trip that was like something from a Harlequin/Mills & Boon romance novel, which made up for the first one, and was an even better story!

When I got back from England, I found myself a sort-of boyfriend. We met at work, and were really just friends with benefits. Actually, not even friends. It was just the benefits part, really. It was just about sex, but it was fun. He was handsome, and charming, but not terribly bright (in the way that your average 21-year-old dudebro isn't terribly bright). He was almost 2 years younger than me, and I pretended like that didn't matter to me...but oh, it did. In age, it was only 2 years, but in maturity, it seemed like decades. But again, since it was just sex, I tried not to think too much about it. For some strange unexplainable reason, things suddenly got serious with him right before I left for my year in Korea. I honestly don't know what came over me. My better judgement was thrown to the wind and I let myself fall for him. We were planning on moving in together when I got back from Korea, and maybe even getting engaged. We would keep our relationship open while I was overseas, though, for the sake of our sanity. That did NOT work though, and within a couple of months it fell apart. Mostly because he turned out to be a complete asshat (long sordid story), so I dumped him.

For a couple of years, I had an mild assortment of one night stands. but I got tired of them pretty quickly. My first relationship was a monogamous and long-term, so one-night stands just didn't satisfy me. But if they were good for one thing, it was for me to learn what I liked and didn't like. So I guess there's that.

In last 5 years, though, there's just been one of person. We started as friends and occasional lovers. And then about year and a half ago tried to make a relationship out of it, which lasted all of 2 weeks before failing in a spectacularly painful way, but was unnecessarily drawn out for another 2 months before I finally had to man up and end it. To this day, the whole situation remains an thorn in my heart that I'm afraid will never really be resolved. It's the only romantic loose end that I have, but I suppose I'm lucky that I only have the one.

And for the past year a half, there's been nothing. Nothing but tentative first date coffees and online dating messages that never go everywhere. A year and a half of wondering what is it that in 10 years I've not been able to have a proper relationship. On bad days, I tell myself that there's something wrong with me, that I'm not good enough. That I'm not pretty enough, or that I'm annoying or otherwise repulsive to men. On good days though, I tell myself that I'm just selective, that my standards are higher than most. That I demand more of men than the average woman in my age group.

I find that now, pushing thirty, the pool of eligible men is dwindling. The ones who are single now, are usually single for a good reason. Either they're single by choice, because they're still playboys (not interested, thank you), or they're single not by choice because of some social/romantic flaw (like they live in their parents' basement, or are are socially inept). This is a broad generalization, of course, and not ALL single men are like this. But it seems like a lot are. At least the ones I've met. But right now, I can't really focus on romance, because I'm hoping to leave the country soon, which bring me to the next topic.

TRAVEL
When I was twenty, I took my first solo trip away from home. I booked a B&B, packed my gown, hopped a greyhound bus, and went to Burlington Ontario to attend a Renaissance Festival. It was a little scary, but I loved being in a place where I could wear my costume out in public and not get weird stares. Plus, I learned some epic pub songs, and several pretty traditional songs as well. This would set a dangerous precedent, as I would never be afraid of travelling alone henceforth...ha ha!

When I was 22, I left Canada for the first time to fly to England to live in Egham at Royal Holloway, University of London for a semester for a student exchange. Words cannot describe how much I loved it there. I loved my sketchy dorm room. I loved my chavvy corridor mates. I loved the terrible cafeteria food. I loved the near-nightly fire alarms (the castle walls were insulated with paraffin-soaked straw, so the fire alarms were super-sensitive). I loved the rain. I loved the teensy village and the royal park next to the university itself. Most of all, though, I loved the people I met there. The friends I met at RHUL are friends that I'm still in touch with today, some are still dear friends that I care deeply about. I have fond memories of breaking into what is essentially a royal estate to skinny dip at midnight in Her Majesty's Lake; of staying up to the wee hours watching Firefly, Black Adder, and Little Britain with my favourite people; and just hanging out in various dorm rooms and overcrowded flats.

Also during my time in the UK, I had the chance to backpack in Scotland, which was my first time travelling on a shoestring. I was basically a hobo, I didn't have a home (the dorms were closed up for the month), so all I had was a borrowed tent and camping gear and whatever money I had leftover from my student loan. But I bussed and hitchhiked and ferried across the Hebrides.

My time in Scotland also brought me to my ancestral home, Drynoch, where my great-great-great grandmother Margaret Fry MacLeod was born and raised before her family came to Canada in the mid 1800s. The manor is now in ruins, but being able to see it with my own eyes was something pretty spectacular.

When I came back from England, my home in small-town Canada seemed smaller than ever. I decided that I wanted to travel more, so I got my TESOL certification and set my sights on Asia.

There is so much to say about my time in Korea. It was incredible. I was plunked down in a completely alien (and homogeneous) culture where I didn't speak the language at all, to do a job that I only knew how to do in theory. And yet, aside from a few minor setbacks, mostly involving the politics of the hagwon I worked for, I adapted and thrived there. I travelled around the country a bit, studied Buddhism from local monks, met other ESL teachers from around the world, partied literally all night (not something I normally do, but a staple of Korean nightlife), enjoyed the best (and sometimes worst) of what Korean culture has to offer, and learned a whole lot about myself.

It was during my time in Korea that I had the time to reflect on, and come to terms with my relationship with my sisters. We had grown up fighting pretty much constantly, and we couldn't really stand each other as teens. But the time away from home gave me a chance to really think about how I treated them. Coupled with the lessons of compassion and reflection I was getting from the monks on a weekly basis, It really hit me that it was up to me to rebuild the relationship. I remember writing a tearful email to them one night, full of apologies for a lifetime of bullying and rivalry. If I remember correctly, they were confused as to why I felt the need to send an apology letter, but accepted it. And we've been good ever since, ha ha!

I also had my first real crush since high school while I was in Seoul. I had the hots for one of my fellow English teachers, a tall hipster-y fellow who sang and played the guitar. Sadly, he liked one of the other teachers, so....yeah. BUT it gave me a reason to look pretty every day, and that was kinda nice. I'm still friends with several of my co-teachers from that school, we were a pretty tight group. :) I met a lot of people through Couchsurfing, too, which led to some pretty awesome travels later on as well.

Teaching English was amazing, though. I discovered that teaching is one of my passions. I also discovered that I could never do it as a job. I teach far too organically. I teach as I see fit as per the student needs, and that caused trouble with the principal. I almost got fired because I wasn't following the curriculum EXACTLY enough for them. In the end though, I saw my students learn and thrive, and that gave me great pride, the establishment be damned! :P

After Korea, I travelled back to England and Scotland again in 2010 and 2012, and also visited France. I went back to see old friends, and met new ones, including distant family. Through some family tree research of my ancestors from Drynoch, I connected with a branch of the family who had returned to England after the family moved to Canada. We got to know each other a bit online and I met them when I went over there to visit school friends. It was amazing how they welcomed me like a long-lost cousin, and indeed, I consider them to be a part of my family now, even though they are really my third cousins thrice-removed!

I haven't been able to travel for the last few years, mainly because I've been preparing for the biggest trip yet: a potentially permanent move to England coming (hopefully) in the next few months. It's been in the works for a year and a half with the HR of our sister company in London. I've applied for the job, been interviewed, and filled out another application form at their request. I'm now waiting to hear back from them to see if I got the position. I've wanted to move back to England since I was there for school, and it would be a dream come true to settle there. So for now, my fingers are crossed that my thirties will open up new travel adventures in Europe!

WORK
My twenties has seen quite the assortment of jobs. When I was twenty, I was still working the minimum wage retail jobs of my teen years, but at least, they were a little classier (I think, ha ha!) I lost my first university job at the knock-off build-a-bear factory when I broke my arm in 2006. I loved that job. I was working with my best friend, got to host kids parties, play with teddy bears, and sing Disney music all day. Once my arm was out of the cast, I worked for a telesurvey company, but that was crap, so I quit after 3 months (seriously, I had to clock in and out every time I used the bathroom. It was ridiculous). Then I worked in the housewares and bed & bath departments of The Bay both before and after I was in England.

I'll skip over working in Korea as I talked about that earlier, so I'll skip right to Career Essentials. I consider that to be my first "big girl job" I was hired as an ESL teacher, but on my first day, was promoted to Office Manager, so I taught and ran that location of the school. There was a lot to learn, which led to some pretty hilarious misunderstandings, but luckily, my boss was awesome and bore with me as I navigated the waters of managership. It was really nice to be able to teach at a place where I got to choose how to teach. The students who learned better on their own with minimal guidance got exactly that, and the ones who needed more attention got more attention. Unfortunately, the company shut down a couple of years after I started there, and I was laid off when my location shut down.

I was hired to open up the new Ottawa location of the competing school who moved in right after, though! Which was kind of nice. The pay was crap, but I loved teaching, so I stayed. I was only there for three months before an opportunity opened up at my current employer. I had zero experience in disability insurance, but it paid twice what I was making, so I went for it, because for double the salary, I can learn!!!

And learn I did! I've not been an easy ride. Insurance policies can be a nightmare to navigate, clients are not always pleasant to work with, my supervisor and I don't always see eye to eye, and my artistic brain is not meant to be cooped up in a cubicle for 8 hours per day. BUT I really do love my work, and every day, I'm learning how to do it better. And I'll happily do this the rest of my life.

HOBBIES
Just like at school, when I was twenty, I was all about theatre, and, like in school, when I realised how horrible the real world of theatre was, that fizzled out pretty quickly. I still loved to perform, but I wasn't quite sure how to go out it.

My twenties were full of looking for a replacement for theatre in my life

I still loved sewing and making costumes, though, and when I was in university, I joined the SCA. I attended the Arts and Science meetings (which are primarily concerned with thing like medieval arts and crafts) and Dancing (which covered both Court and Country dances). I loved the stuff that I was learning at the meetings, such as embroidery, and spinning wool, and old dances, but the people who attended were mostly middle-ages and elderly, and I felt kind of out of place. So I only stayed for about a year.

Another costuming outlet was the wonderful historical murder mystery dinner parties that one of my Classics Department friends wrote and hosted. She did one that too place in Ancient Rome, one in Ancient Egypt, and one in 13th century England.

I tried Highland dancing, Contra dancing, swing dancing, tried to get back into ballet. I still love to dance, but could never find one that fit my budget, time/travel constraints, or I really felt like I fit in.

Everything changed in 2013 when I went to my first Comiccon. I was like the floodgates opened, and I found a place where I could make costumes, dress up, be a geek, and meet other geeks my own age. And like magic, shortly thereafter, I learned about, and subsequently joined, Browncoats Burlesque. So I could dance, make costumes, be geeky, and perform, all at the same time! And sometimes even make money doing it!!! All those years searching for a hobby that suited me, and I found two in the same year that were the perfect fit. And I seemed to do well in them, too! In my second year of doing Comiccon, I won Best in Show for my Elsa cosplay, and in my first year of burlesque, I got the audience choice award at Ottawa Burlesque Idol.

And the best part is that if I get this job in England, I can continue doing cosplay and burlesque while I'm there!

...Aw man, this is getting long. I'll finish the rest of this post tomorrow!!!

The Starlings

I've been working on this short novel, and I'm only a couple chapters in, but I feel like sharing the first little bit. It's rough and unedited, but I hope you like it :)

CHAPTER 1
So many lives were lost that day.
My brother Hellan and I made it a skypod in time to lift off safely, but our guardian was not so lucky. Hellan screamed and sobbed as we climbed higher into the sky. I tried to turn his head away from the carnage below, murmuring soothing words into his ear, but he refused to be calmed. He continued sobbing hoarsely until he wore himself out completely and fell asleep curled in my lap, and by that time, we were deep in space.
The destination of the skypod was pre-programmed to take its riders to Jel, the closest colony to ours in a nearby star system system. So when I opened the pod door to an expanse of dark water beneath us and a single bright moon above, I knew that we hadn’t reached the frozen outpost of Jel.
We floated for several days, living on the ample provisions stored in the pod. Hellan still whimpered from time to time, but he had enough curiosities in the water below to keep him mostly occupied. Ahkt-sol had no oceans, only millions of narrow rivers that criss-crossed its surface. As a naturally curious child, Hellan was satisfied with watching the strange creatures that leapt and skimmed the surface of the water, but my mind raced with questions. Where were we? And would we ever make it to Jel? Without Guardian Lessi, I was lost.
We passed the days observing the sky and the sea, and the nights being rocked by the motions of the water. It was strange not seeing the familiar Ahk-sol constellations above me, but stranger still was having to get accustomed to the days.
Ahkt-sol and its four moons, Ahkt-oret, Ahkt-sem, Akht-am, and Ahkt-era orbit a small red sun. Our days and nights are long, with dim daylight and silvery nights. Here, the days were short and intensely bright, and the nights inky black.
One day, about a dozen after we arrived, as the yellow sun was starting to set, a large vessel came sliding through the water. As soon as they saw us, there was a commotion on board and a half dozen creatures pulled our pod aboard with a thick knotted net.
Hellan and I stood on deck, hand in hand, silent and on our guard, while the creatures stared blankly and murmured to each other. In shape, they didn’t look so very different from us and the other inhabitants of Ahk-sol, only they were bigger, rougher-looking, and hairier. Where we are slim and pale, they were dark and muscular.
We stood facing each other, unsure of how to proceed, when suddenly, another creature pushed through the watchers and approached us. I assume this must have been a woman, as she was shorter than the others and didn’t have hair on her face. Hellan put his arms around me and hid his face in my tunic. She took my chin in her hands and examined my face, then tugged at Hellan’s shirt. He didn’t acknowledge the woman, only clung closer to me. I could feel him trembling, but he didn’t cry out.
When the woman finished her appraisal and stepped back towards her companions, she beckoned imperiously to one of the men. The woman made what sounded like a string of commands to the man, who made a feeble attempt to stand his ground, but in the end submitted to her. The other men guffawed under their breaths, until the man’s face turned red and he barked at them and they scattered.He e must be the ship’s commander. So I approached him.
“I am Jana from the colony of Neru on the planet Akh-sol” I said politely. I pointed to my brother, “and this is my brother Hellan. Our skypod has gone off course. Could you tell us what planet this is?”
The commander’s face softened and he shook his head and shrugged. He kneeled so we were face to face and place a callused hand on my shoulder. He then tapped his chest with his other hand and said slowly and deliberately,
“Ed...war...do.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Edwardo!”
“Ed-ar-do?” I repeated haltingly, tripping on the syllables.
The man’s smile broadened and his eyes crinkled. “Ed-wuh-ar-do.”
Hellan slowly turned an eye from out from my tunic.
“Ed-wuh-wwwuhrrr-do?”
He nodded and patted my shoulder. “Edwardo!”
“Edwardo!” I beamed, and even Hellan smiled timidly, his face still half-covered in fabric. I pointed a finger to the man’s chest.”Edwardo….” then to my own. “Jana.”
“Jana” He repeated, patting my shoulder again. He nodded his head towards the boy peeking out from my tunic.
“Hellan” I said, trying to gently turn my brother to face Edwardo. He resisted, squirming to avoid my nudges. The man chuckled and poked Hellan’s side, wiggling his finger. To my surprise, Hellan giggled and pushed away from me, swatting at Edwardo’s wiggling finger.
The big man laughed out loud and chucked Hellan under the chin. “Hellan!”
Hellan smiled shyly and nodded, still staring at the floor.
Edwardo stood and pulled the women close, grabbing her waist and kissing her cheek with a loud smack. She must be his mate.
“Caterina!” He annouced. Hellan and I repeated her name in unison.
Caterina hugged us both, and spoke soft words that we couldn’t understand, but knew were kind and trustworthy. She smelled of perfume and fish. Once she let us go, she exchanged a few words with Edwardo, then he nodded and walked away, waving to us. She took our hands, and led us belowdecks to a small, cozy room with three tasselled hammocks, a lighted lamp, and a small trunk.
Hellan’s face lighted up when he saw the hammocks. Children on Ahkt-sol are raised in communal nurseries, most often with dormitories comprised of hammocks. I was glad that we had found something familiar in this alien world.
It also reminded us of how tired we were. It must have been obvious to Caterina, too, because she went to the trunk and pulled out two soft white shirts. They were far too big for us, but they would serve as sleeping clothes. Caterina busied herself in the trunk as we changed, and then reached for our Ahktian clothes.
“NO! DON’T!” I screamed, grabbing the tunics from her hands and clutching them to my breast. I was surprised at my sudden reaction, but hot tears filled my eyes as I realised that these clothes were the only things we had left from our home. I pulled them to my face and sobbed. For all of these days, I had been strong for my brother’s sake, because we were alone. But now, in the benevolent presence of these strange, kind aliens, I couldn’t hold back my sadness any longer. I fell to my knees, my body wracked with emotion.
I felt Hellan’s small arms wrap around my shoulders, then both of us were enveloped in Caterina’s fleshy embrace. She stroked my hair and cooed in her strange language. Once my sobs had subsided, she lifted me into one of the hammocks. I let her fuss over my pillow and blankets, tucking them snugly around me. I didn’t care that I was too old to be put to bed. I was exhausted and numb. I heard her murmur to Hellan and he climbed into one of the other hammocks. There was a rustle of blankets as Hellan was tucked in, and the rhythmic creaking of a rocking hammock.
My hammock started rocking as well, and Caterina started to sing. A soft, low melody, barely above a whisper, but strong and sweet. I cuddled the tunics to my face, and closed my eyes. That last thing I heard before drifting into sleep was the faint rushing of the ocean outside, weaving in and out of Caterina’s song.

CHAPTER 2
I woke up to the sound of stirring in the next hammock.
“Hellan? Are you okay?”
He was sitting up, rocking back and forth in the hammock. A habit leftover from his days in the dormitories. He looked over at me and nodded mutely. Among our people, children don’t speak until they’re finished the fifth cycle of schooling, except for people’s names for reference or to get attention. Instead, they watch, and listen.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember all of the things that Guardian Lessi had taught me in the last schooling cycle about maintaining proper contact with alien species when off-world, but my mind was racing. Memories of past lessons flashed by like holo-vids behind my eyelids, barely coherent.
Do not disrupt their evolution. Especially in technology. Guardian Lessi’s voice was firm and he was deadly serious.
Learn to communicate as quickly as possible; language, culture, religion. The sooner you learn, the less likelihood of dangerous, even fatal misunderstanding.
Keep in contact with home. If anything happens, you can be removed from the situation as soon as possible.
My eyes teared up. Guardian Lessi didn’t expect that any of us would be trapped on an unknown planet, completely cut off from everything we knew… I shook my head to clear the fog of despair that was creeping in. I had to stay sharp if I was to get us through this. I turned to Hellan and watched him rocking, and gazing out to the sea. He would remain mute, learning with his eyes and ears, so it was up to me to ensure our safety.
Do not disrupt their evolution. The words spun around in my mind. Do not disrupt their evolution. I looked around at the cabin and thought back to out time on deck. This was not a space-worthy vessel, and it was possible that this race hadn’t discovered interstellar travel yet.
“Hellan!” I cried suddenly. “The skypod! We have to find it!”
I slipped out of my hammock and searched frantically for my tunic, but it wasn’t among my blankets. I could feel my panic escalating, I slammed the lid of the trunk and shoved it violently, letting it clatter against the metal walls of the little room.
Moments later, the door opened and crack and Caterina’s face appeared, brows knitted together with concern. She said something, but of course I didn’t understand her, and that just made me more upset. A fine portrait I made, standing there in the middle of the room, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched. Me cheeks burned, and I knew they must be bright red. I didn’t care. I needed to get to the skypod and I couldn’t find my clothes. But I wouldn’t cry. Not again.
Caterina must have been hesitant to approach me, because she remained silent. Hellan, however, crept to my side, pried my fist open and slipped his hand into mine.
“Jana…?” He whispered. I realized I’d been holding my breath.
I released a shuddering sigh and let my other hand relax. Caterina put a hand on my cheek and patted it gently. I opened my eyes. Draped over her other arm was a pair of Ahktian tunics, clean and pressed. She saw me looking at the tunics and spoke to me kindly in her language I couldn’t understand.
She handed the tunics to me and pulled me into a warm hug. She kissed my cheeks then left, closing the door behind her.
“Hellan, I’m sorry I lost my temper.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Hellan nodded and hugged me. I hugged him back and continued. “You know that wasn’t the right thing to do though, right?” Until we found our way home - if we were able to find our way home - I’d have to try to keep teaching Hellan. He hugged me harder.
“Okay, get dressed. We have to find that skypod. We can’t let these aliens take any of its technology just in case it’s too advanced for them.”
Hellan cocked his head inquisitively. He wouldn’t be leaning any of this for several school cycles.
“I don’t have time right now to explain it fully, but basically, we can’t interfere with the development these aliens. We have to let them learn at their own pace.”
Hellan still looked confused.
“Ummm...you know how Guardian Lessi wouldn’t let you use the cooking knife, but he would let me? Well, that’s because I’m older and I knew how to use it properly. You hadn’t learned about knives yet, and so you might have cut yourself if you used it. Well, our skypod is like that cooking knife. Ahktians are old enough to understand and use our ships, but these aliens might be too young, and might hurt themselves if they play with it. Do you understand?”
“Caterina…? Edwardo…?” and he mimed holding a knife and cutting one hand. It was close enough.
“Yes, if Caterina or Edwardo plays with the skypod, they might get hurt. So we have to find it.”
His pale blue eyes were filled with concern for his new alien friends. In a flash, he changed into his clean tunic and rushed to the door, tugging me after him. I dressed and followed him. When we opened the door, Caterina was waiting.
“Caterina, we need to get to out skypod.” I tried to mime the floating of the skypod, and the net dragging it into the boat, but it was difficult without context. So I tugged on her sleeve and pointed to the hall that led abovedecks.
The woman shook her head and shrugged. She didn’t understand, but she spoke to us and ushered us further down the hallway. I tried to motion that we wanted to return to the deck, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
I could break away and make a run for it, but I remembered Guardian Lessi’s advice about avoiding miscommunication with aliens. So I resigned myself to follow Caterina.
No sooner had I made the decision to delay my trip abovedecks, but a smell hit my nose. Faint at first, then stronger as we continued down the hall. My stomach rumbled, and Hellan became visibly excited. Our mission was momentarily wiped from our minds as our stomachs took over.
When we entered the cooking area, there were several of the alien men already sitting and eating, some standing. They eyed us with curiosity, but didn’t seem hostile. Caterina showed us to a small table with two plates and two cups. Hellan dug right in, regardless of the strangeness of the alien meal. I paused to look at the contents of the plate, but it smelled so good that I ate with near-equal gusto.
The drink was my favourite part, though. Sweet and smooth and possibly the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.Caterina notice how much I enjoyed it and refilled my cup twice.
Once the food was eaten, and Hellan and I were sipping our drinks with delight, Caterina pulled up a chair and leaned in close. She pointed and me, then at Hellan.
“Mama? Papa?” She asked. I didn’t understand the words. She mimed rocking a baby, then pointed at me and Hellan again. I shrugged.
She then pulled a pad of paper out of her pocket and drew a crude-looking woman, then a man. Then she pointed at me and drew a baby in the arms of the woman.
“Do you want to know about the woman who birthed me?” I asked.
I didn’t know why she wanted to know. On Ahkt-sol, children are not raised exclusively by their birthparents. They only stay with them for 3 cycles, long enough to be weaned and taught how to properly use the toilet by themselves. Then they spend each subsequent cycle in the home of a different member of the community to learn the basics of the various roles that keep our communities strong and fruitful. These learning cycles are overseen and guided by an appointed guardian.
I shook my head. I didn’t know how to communicate these complex cultural norms to her. Caterina exclaimed softly and took my hand in hers, murmuring and patting my hand. She seemed sad, worried. A few of the men turned to us and made equally sad noises. With more kisses to both Hellan and I, Caterina wiped at her eyes, refilled our cups a final time with the dark sweet drink, and bustled to the door. Before she left, she spoke a few words to a couple of the the men, who nodded and smiled at us.
I turned to Hellan.
“Alright, when we finish our drinks, we’ll go up and take care of the skypod. Okay?”
He smiled and nodded, sweet drink dripping from his upper lip. I wondered if a good meal and sweet treat was enough to soothe him into forgetting, for the moment, the trauma from Ahkt-sol. He seemed to be doing much better, anyhow. He was smiling at the men around the cooking area, who smiled back though bushy beards and squinty crinkly eyes. He was always a friendly boy. A strange foil to my naturally reserved nature.