The Arrival of Princess Snow

There's always something fresh and new going on each day. Today's honour goes to the Princess of Winter - Snow. As the temperature fell below zero, the droplets of water crystallized into flakes of snow, falling, making a soft landing onto earth as if controlled by the hands of a gentle pilot.

I was out on the campus and found myself in a mixture of wind and cold, with white flurries filling the spaces between heaven and earth. Despite the chill in the air, the campus is busier, warmer than usual, marked by McGillers finishing off their nth midterm that they over-studied for... cheers and laughters, filled the spaces between the snow flakes.

Oh that purity and comeliness of princess snow; watch her, and lose yourself in her beauty, her elegance, her charm. Arrogantly, she laughs upon the praises, and slowly retreats back to her heavenly palace.

Tomorrow,
the green leaves will turn a bit yellower, the golden leaves will turn a bit dryer, the dry leaves will turn a bit crispier, then, like snow, they'll melt and disappear...because of her.

Chemistry

The mental image of chemistry is often related to flasks of coloured solution sitting in a cold laboratory filled with scientific equipments whose names either make full logical sense, or none at all. From the scrutiny of empirical science of chemistry, we now know matter down to its core; right to the bosons, mesons, and etc.

But, I think there's another kind of chemistry, "People Chemistry", which logic and rationality fail to explain."People chemistry" has its own set of elements, and difference forces of attraction and reactions between the elements when put under certain conditions.

"People chemistry" gave rise to a new level of communication - a communication between potential lovers. It's indirect, implicit, yet crystal clear in meaning except to the outsiders listening in. Reaction could occur right off the bat, creating instantaneous attraction. Not affection, but attraction.

Chemistry is not so much about how you feel when you're with your "lover"; it's unique for the sense of excitement, mystery, ponder, and aspiration chemistry creates when you are not with that person. Unlike infatuation or obsession, chemistry takes two, thus, stronger bond - just as explained by science.

Poor me, stuck here thinking about this while the reaction takes place inside of me as the train of thoughts go by.

Thanks Thanks..giving

1621 was a great year of harvest. The fertile soil and pleasant climate brought enormous produce to the Native tribes settling along the St. Lawrence. In fact, the farmers stocked enough food to get through the entire winter, plus some more. To show their gratefulness to the nature, the Native Chiefs decided to have a celebration. And of course, they invited the Europeans to join them for this graaand feast, which is later known in the English language as.. "Thanksgiving".

Now as the festival was passed down from generation to generation, Thanksgiving is often associated with that big, juicy, turkey stuffed with goodies that make your tummy go "MmmHmm!" - it's a 'must-have'

Nothing wrong with that, but this Thanksgiving, I realized something more behind this holiday.

Friday night, Montreal was in pouring rain. On my night stroll along St. Catherine, the street was almost quiet, without the usual spirit of youth who are ready to blast off. How lovely the city on a peaceful night! But a bit of distance ahead, under the streetlight was a silhouette of a man, walking the street in pouring rain without an umbrella. I wonder if he feels miserable when Thanksgiving is just around the corner.

Unlike many of my more fortunate floormates at Molson, I didn't go home this weekend, but mom visited me. After showing her around the city on Saturday, Sunday night she was at my residence, and cooked an adequate dinner for me a couple of my friends. The dinner was nothing like a banquet, but mom made the best out of what we had. The little pieces of green vegetables, bits and strips of lamb meat taken with simply prepared sauce..it wasn't bad. We all sat around a little table and ate dinner, I won't forget it.

So sometimes there is no turkey at the Thanksgiving dinner table. Maybe sometimes we need to break the tradition in order to make new discoveries. For that man walking in the rain, maybe he is in search of something beyond my realm of understanding.

There's something so beautiful about simplicity.

My XC Singlets: From a Crusader to a Redmen

There's always an indescribable thrill when I slip on my race singlet.

In my Freshman year of high school, I paid $20 bucks and received my blue Crusader singlet. Back in the days when I barely know much about the sport of Cross Country, I was told to wear IT in my race instead of my beloved cotton T-Shirt, because, supposedly, this piece of clothing would make me run faster; Hmm..surely the design of it made every logical sense to improve the runner's speed. The feather-weight material complimented by strategically tailored cuts together provide a natural cooling system and allow the runner to glide through the air.

It wasn't until my Sophomore year that my blue Crusader singlet meant more than a piece of racing gear to me. My new-found meaning extended beyond its physical value. It was part of a part that makes a 'whole'. As individualistic a sport Cross Country is, I see that I am not sailing alone; I got teammates.

I guess maturity does come with age. In Junior and Senior years, the significance of my blue Crusader singlet was taken to another level. A reputation has risen. The blue singlet was known to be the "blue wave". It was a topic of coaches all over the province when the singlet made its appearance on the Provincial Podium, the top one might I add. Before the gunfire to start every race, with our feet behind the line, we put the reputation on the line.

So the XC life followed me to college, minus the responsibilities and pressure of being team captain. Everything else seem to be the same ol' boat except the new trails, new teammates, and a singlet with a new name at the front: "McGill" - a new legacy.

Redmen.

Cold, Cold Steel

Underneath the skin of every human being, there are muscles. Within the muscles there are nerve fibers, blood vessels etc. And if you were to trace these "routes", eventually they lead to two place, the brain and the heart, qualities that make human..well, human.

I remember the Februaries I spent at the Beaverworx machine shop. The cold cold Canadian Februaries - dark and damp. I was surrounded by machines; machines with their own specialties, manipulated under my hands to give rise to a new machine. Pile of steel, scrap metal turned into a structure, a body, minus the a soul. Oh how cold and senseless it was...until the programmer, I, brought it to life.

Keystrokes and clicks, transformed into rise and fall of an electrical pulse that forced strings of codes into the robot's "brain" to make it all but dead. Logic, that's what it had, transferred from the human brain to the machine "brain", of which computes purely on the basis of probability and strict, definite mathematical equations.

With a camera, it sees; with a motor, it moves. With a lines of command in its brain, it functions... while I, was slowly turning into a machine, being no longer controlled by the body chemistry but that pile of cold, cold steel staring at me - like a child I brought to life. I, operate on the rise and fall of an electrical pulse sent from my "brain", striking the keyboards while the distance clock strikes 3AM.

I, no longer feel.

When Fall Falls

It's that time of the year again.

Each morning I wake up, my room always feels a bit cozy; it makes me feel lazy and not want to get out of my warm bed. I struggle, I debate, nevertheless, I make a conscious effort to get up, and look out my window, watching the leaves move in the wind blowing across the forest of Mont Royale. How peaceful a morning, a new beginning.

Each morning there's a subtle change of colour on the leaves. Just weeks ago, they were green, deep green, ever-green, as if they would never fade. They seemed invincible, having withstood the thunders and lightnings of midsummer nights.

Now as temperature drops, the sky falls, burdening the mind already full with onerous thoughts... Wind picks up, carrying a sharp chill, cuts through the tender skin on the face. What does it mean to be in nature's cycle? The rise and fall of the tides to the histories of empires. The days and nights of the month to the man's Ying and Yang.

Oh that men's inner strife
Vulnerability of life.
Now this fallen leaf,
returning to nature,
more mature,
than what it once was.

The Transition: Part II - Off to College

Some of my best high lights happened in high school, but I'm not sure if I really miss it, or would ever want to go back to, what some call, the 'glory' days.

I was bad, with power; bad to the point that "power" became meaningless. To those action movie fans, you know that "bad" and "power" make a VERY bad combination... Since my Sophomore year I've been having my way around the school. According to my school record, I cut a third of classes I was supposed to attend without ever getting questioned. For those who want to follow my notorious act, not that you should, the trick is to earn respect from every school staff, from custodian ladies to principal and superintendent. It wasn't that I purposely cut class, but that they were simply a waste of time. Physics made every sense after completing calculus in Grade 10 - the same year I cleaned up in the 800, 1500, 3000, XC and singles-badminton champion titles. Perhaps, that helped me to get the Presidential key to the senate office and all those end-of-the-year awards. The Jr and Sr years went even better in different ways; my favourite being leading our robotics team to the top quarter at Robotics World Championship.

Everything seemed to be in place. Good grades, girls, driver's license, none of that was what I was looking for. If I had to pick the most important of the three, it'd be the driver's license, that allowed me to go on my adventures.

Then late August finally came and I headed to college thanks to CMSF's overly generous scholarships that enscounced me in the heart of Montreal, on the beautiful McGill campus. Daily, I immerse myself a sea of student rushing to lecture halls from all over the world, and often bumping shoulders to get in Leacock 132 and fight for that seat at 8th row center, a bit off to the professor's right. Late nights of readings, infinite learning, translate to quiet time in my dormitory. Put on some tunes of acoustic guitar, which I recently fell in love with, light a candle, and pour a glass of soy milk, there I am, forming my own little space within the noise and parties of the legendary Molson Hall.

Pressure? Yes, like the giant's foot on an tiny ant. Yet a block of time is set aside daily to log the mileages in Cross-Country. Workout, practice, practice, workout; time - turns into meaningless numbers that obstructs the renewal of the laws of physics, since only time changes and distance doesn't. If I done it right, each time I reach exhaustion, the next day I should be a split-second faster on that last interval. There are the occasional escapes from the city-vibe on the long-runs up Mont Royal, rewarded at the top with an one-of-a-kind view of Montreal skyline; only then, I realize doesn't matter how far I run away from civilization, I am never too far away from it.

On the first night at Molson Hall, as my parents' car pull away from my sight, the new life had began. Alone in the big city at first, but joined by my new college friends. At my weakest moment, he had proven his loyalty, she, her sincerely kind-heart.

I don't know what word would one use to describe "The Transition"; ...how about apprehension?

The Transitions: Part I - Kindergarten to High School

Attending college is really different than attending any other institutions...Really, I mean it.

I'm sure if you think hard enough, you still remember the early days of kindergarten. Learning is...well, pretty much playing, eating snacks, and taking afternoon naps. Being a good "student" meant you just had to keep your hands off others, and don't break any toys.

Then one day, you move from Junior kindergarten to Senior kindergarten, then you graduate" from kindergarten all together. For those of us who didn't attend kindergarten, no worries, you didn't miss much; graduation rate was 99.9%.

Elementary school days seem to be the longest. For the first time we were given something called "homework", of which we did in class...until when Grade 8 happens; teachers suddenly gave us assignments called seminars and essays. Our work became serious enough that plagiarism had to be discussed and dealt with in a bureaucratic manner.

I'm sure you've had memorable elementary school days without thinking too hard about it. Remember your best friend who you got into a fist-fight with? Or how about your first crush on that particular girl or boy who doesn't have cooties unlike the others?

Oh yeah, how can I forget; how about those awkward sex talks in class that made you feel awkward yet curious?

For a while we never understood why we do what we do. Those raging hormones in our bodies lead our rebellion against authorities; we won the battles, but lost the war. High school came...

Emotions, we developed; they allow us to laugh, they make us cry, they let us love...oh how your heart skipped a beat when you had your first kiss, with that girl or boy whom you thought to be your "true love", of whom you'll one day marry and have a family with...

Then reality struck. Groups form. Those buddies from elementary school? Maybe not your friends anymore. Forever takes on a different meaning than what you used to know. Questions lead to confusion, which lead to more questions. We were mature enough to know, but helpless to do. Off to senior year we go; finally, some power we were awarded after sitting through the most boring drivers' ed, 10 hours of risking-life-on-the-road, 99 near accidents, and a jokingly-easy road test. Remember that thrill when you first inserted that key into the ignition? Turn the key, turn on freedom, and accelerate! Instead of being ruled, we ruled the school. We took over and became council presidents.

Over the years, with the hundreds of lessons we learned not from the school but from the mistakes we made, we were handed our graduation diploma. Finally, high school's done...for good.