I've always been one to walk with my eyes upwards.
Never have I dared glance down, guessing where I may fall.
Fallen from heights, into gaps, walked off cliffs I have.

In a way, falling is just another part of learning, one of the few parts that hurts, but needs to.
Love is another part of falling, but it's important not to walk and love, for you'll surely fall.

So what, what if I do fall you ask?
Fast, is the answer, you'll fall faster than you could possibly brace.
So what, you then ask, what if I want to fall fast?
Fully well you may, but you can't decide your speed, the naturalness will handle that for you.
So what, your question comes again, what if I don't want to fall in love then?
Truly, then I say, you do, you really do, and you really will.
.
Stop
.
When you look back, maybe 300 years from now, you'll realize not all was as it seemed; it was better, fuller, truer. The secret messages, the hidden smiles, the quiet laughs, the locked eyes. But the hints were there, you probably caught some. Luckily you found them, well it only took one. But did you find this one? Was every sentence what it seemed? What about the first word of each? Did you catch that?

Well you caught it now.

I dreamt I went for a walk, neither here nor there, but somewhere in between. The dark ground was soft and damp beneath my bare feet, the entire place eerily aglow with the purest of white. The moon hung reassuringly above, never leaving me in the dark, but leaving enough to imagination that the adventure was still there.

I walked softly, cautiously, for some reason being careful not to make a sound.

I mistepped, a twig instantly snapping. The crack echoed, announcing me. I looked around, "shit!" I whispered.

Immediately I heard footsteps. I thought to run, but couldn't. The grass was slick, my feet bare.

"Hey!" I didn't look, I kept walking. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"Hey! Colum?!" came the voice, the shape now beginning to take form from the darkness about it. Though something was different, everything was different. The glow. I looked up, no longer white, but now orange, the moon held it's shape, basking us with it's strange glow.

I turned round, coming face to face with... "Insanity?"

"yah, been a while hasn't it? What are you doing out here?" He asked.

I stood looking at him. Hair a little spikier. Eyes definitely darker. Soul Patch. Pointed Sideburns. "You're a Real piece of work." I said.

"What? I didn't do anything." He said back.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"We've got the question part down you know. Think we could get to some answers?" He asked, pushing.

"Fine." I sighed, defeated. "I was just out for a walk, couldn't sleep, needed some air, you know."
"I know the feeling, but that doesn't explain why you aren't wearing shoes."

I looked down. Sure enough, my feet were bare and bleeding. Each blade of grass had been a slice of green glass. I looked over my shoulder, my footprints stamped with red along my path.

"Fuck!"

"Fuck? You didn't notice?"

"No I didn't fucking notice." I screamed, awakening everything. The lights came on. The moon dropping from the sky, the sun slipping to its cradle on the crest of the hill.

"Now look what you did!" He said back. "I was just about to go to sleep."

"I didn't do anything. I only did what I wanted... Look Leave me alone! I need to think!"

"That's your problem, you know me... Look at me!" He said. I looked back up, meeting his eyes. "That's your problem, you think too fucking much. Listen to me, listen to a friend. We went through it all, you can't think this much, It's tearing you apart." He stopped, a piano now playing in the distance. "See I just did that, I thought I'd like to hear some piano, so I just did it and I'm glad I did, beats listening to that." He finished, nodding to me.

I couldn't help it. A tear rolled down my cheek, I'd started sniffling. I'd fought it back to something close to composure.

"Look, I came from there. "He said, pointing behind him. "Your questionably close friend thinks just as much as you do. It's so beautiful, so much thought, so much intelligence, too bad nothing's happening!!" He finished with a shout, his eyes almost lighting up. The piano stopped.

"You're fucking insane." I said, turning to run.

"Go ahead and run, that always works so well!" He yelled.

I raced down the hill. The shouts behind me. I slipped. Skidded. I fell forward.
The green glass, glistening in the sunlight, rushed to meet me.
...
.
I woke up.
Face to face with my green sheets.
"Holy fuck.... That was insane." I muttered in quiet disbelief, moving first to my notebook to write it down, then to the shower to wash it away.

I'm not sure what happened.
I'm terrified, teetering on the edge of loss.
For a brief moment, an instant that was an eternity, I was in place I never thought I'd find.
Now I've collided with some coincidence, some bizzare change of red to blue.
I'm reeling, end over end, out of control, but not wanting to stop.

Outside the bounds of sane thought, the spectrum of my thoughts shifts. I turn inward, contemplating, looking to what and who have helped me cope so many times.

I'd do anything. I don't want to lose.

I think I've finally found the future home. Or at least the home I'll aim for come January.

San Francisco.
My research has been extensive.
The thoughts originally ignited by the tales of my parents' travels are now rekindled by the fact that I can actually go on my own. (not to mention the countless spots of the city shown on mythbusters and pilot guides) I know other students such as myself who've gone, have loved it, and only returned to long to go again. Their stories only further motivating my infatuation.

On paper it yields the highest starting salary I can find for my fields of interest. It boasts a high, but familiar cost of living, nothing that is unmanagble; I can thank Halifax for such familiarity with expense.

On everything else, it's a beautiful, clean city. It offers more opportunity than anything I've ever known and it's hard to imagine what wouldn't be possible there. It's climate is incredible, it's surroundings mimicking a more friendly version of here. Warmer waters, defined summers, beaches, multiple cultures, the list continues. My thoughts twist toward day dreaming as I list, my productivity plummeting as my imagination runs wild.

The more I think about it the more I become enthralled with it.

But of course, the earthquakes... I'll ignore those for now.
There's enough turbulence to deal with as it is.

Only 6 more days until I leave.
I'm not sure how to feel. It's weird now, it being inappropriate to wear my feelings on my sleeve.

Today amongst the boredom fueled delirium with my feet resting atop a huge pile of "to be done work" and my mind placed in park, I happened upon a thought.
"What would I be, a super hero or a super villain?"

My eye lids suddenly became lighter and I sat forward in my ridiculously un-ergonomic chair, my mind pushed into overdrive.

How does one choose between fame and infamy. It's not easy to achieve a representative decision. There are so many aspects of behavior to examine, so naturally I decided to take the rest of the day to properly sort through the matter.

Now while I'm a pretty carefree person there are certain things that can trigger an unregulated response. Such rare events would include losing in monopoly, talking to a certain red headed friend, being stuck in traffic, having too many beers, and possibly being hit by a water balloon thrown from a passing car. I guess this little factoid regarding my temper lends me to being more of a villain than a hero.

Second, to be a super hero I'd need one of those rubberized muscle shaped chest plates to wear under my clothes. I'm just too lanky. So again, here we are with the villain classification.

Third, I'm still in school. Most heroes seem to skip the whole education thing once they discover their powers. Instead of making a living doing honest professional work, most settle for labor or trades jobs. Of course there was the flash who took to the world track and field circuit for a while. So should I ever need a family portrait taken or a toilet fixed I'll call the friendly neighborhood muscle bound idiot. Again here I am; I seem to be in a group with the villains, destined to misuse my acquired knowledge to sow destruction.

Fourth, There's the whole girl factor. Superman has Lois, or at least it's understood in an unspoken manner that he has Lois. Batman has all the girls he can buy as does the Flash, The Green lantern, The Torch, even the Thing has a chick and he's made out of abrasive granite! Looks Like I'm going to have to fall into the villain category here again. No girl, no super hero representation in this field.

Fifth, Do I look better in a cape or with a helmet, backpack, knee high boots and twin laser blasters? Now, I've done the cape thing before for Halloween (without the spandex body suit though) and even though I've never wielded dual laser blasters, I'm willing to go out on a limb and say I look cooler in a helmet with a pair of "Oblivatrons" in my hands. But sadly, no cape means no superhero status, back to villain.

It's beginning to get hopeless now. What will my parents think? Onward!

Sixth. My parents and family. I guess this is another toss to the villain side. My parents weren't incinerated when our home planet exploded for no apparent reason, nor were they the victims of a mugging gone wrong in the back alleys of a big city. I suppose I should also count myself lucky that my parents aren't the mad scientist types who inject their kids with crazy green glowing syringes. I have a quiet, quite alive, relatively normal family. Again, more of villain characteristic than a super hero characteristic.

Seventh; With regards to bullets, if I was shot, I have little to no faith that I would not be able to stop a bullet (and live) without the proper protective equipment. I also have no delusions about being able to run faster than bullets or dodge bullets fired at point blank range. Hence, I guess I'll have to stick to my red boots, helmet and backpack and side with the Villains Again.

Finally. My hair. It just doesn't look good in a comb over. I'm not sure why, maybe it's because my family hasn't evolved the ability to look good with normal hair. After all I'm the first male in my family to have a full head of hair at this ripe age since the late Neolithic period. Given that I have to wear my hair spiked, or at the very least messed up, I just can't pull off the clean, combed, calm, super hero image. The vote is villain again.

So that's it. 8 out of 8.
The test has run it's course and I'm a villain.
So without a shade of a doubt, if I had x-ray vision I'd probably use it just to check out chicks and see their underwear.
But xray vision is the most basic of the powers I could abuse.

Well, it is likely we will see more in the coming days: mindcontrol, Oblivatron use, seduction, revenge?? who knows.. but I am a villain :)

It never actually happened, but the threat was always there. If you were caught acting like an idiot by a certain primary school teacher, "you'd be treated like an idiot. "

Perhaps the fact that it never happened is the reason so many members of that early class went on to become very unproductive members in society. But nonetheless, I've been an idiot. Perhaps I forgot this threat.

I've committed the 3 worst offenses becoming of an idiot.

1. Not thinking with my Brain
2. Wasting valuable time
3. Putting myself at risk

Either way, for now I'll sit, willingly facing away from what draws attention. Sporting red cheeks and the crown of my self embarrassment I'll rest, continuing my search in places unchecked and untainted by the far reaches of jealousy.

But, At least I'm 25 cents richer.

When I run, I run into the hills, the forest or the mountains. Free of distractions and human interference I find myself alone with shy thoughts.

Today I ran, needing to be alone. Utterly alone amongst the forest and the stones I cornered my thoughts. Twisting along the trail I snaked through the mix and mess of memories, along concealed trails of thought, through hidden feelings, all the while checking my precarious balance.

I forced my way along, my legs powering pedals, my mathematical mind trying to apply logic to my irrational pot of thought.


"How did I get here so fast?"to this feeling? To the top?
The view was incredible, the summit capped with a carefully stacked pile of rock.
My thoughts were lining up, forming a picture, giving a vision, showing an answer.

Amongst the tranquility, the perfection was torn, a sudden rumble, a distraction.
White streaking loudly across blue, a plane drawing its line, providing its sign.

"Am I losing my mind?", or does everything real work out and fit into this line?

My summer is over and I've entered what would be professionally termed my "10 day transitional period".

Strangely enough, almost as if in an act of defiance, I haven't packed, I haven't booked plane tickets; I really haven't even given it much thought.

Ironically, a little over a month ago I was set to go. I was seething with enthusiasm and childish anticipation. I had been looking forward to seeing familiar faces and ready for the challenges that undoubtedly awaited. But more than anything, I was just wanting to get it over with. School has dragged on now for 2 degrees and much of my free time with these demands surely to grow.

Now, with a departure for next wednesday I'm feeling unsure. The utter certainty of signing my name in various places has filled me with second thoughts. I'm tired of reading the instruction book to life, I just want to start using it. Like a child with a new toy I find myself not really caring if I break it, I just want to try. I want to play.

However, ss a result of my given signature, these seconds thoughts can be only that, thoughts. The reality is I'm gone in 10 days, probably not to return outside of visiting for quite sometime.

Maybe that is why this is so hard. I never used to read the instructions, I still don't.
But then again, I don't want to risk breaking this.
After all, it is my only life.

All lost in detail. All Gained in scope.
Experience without detail is art without form.
There is more than simple impressionism here. The sensations, the smiles, the eyes, are all unique.

Details. Those found in those rare Vague Moments. Those single points in time where perfection has been suddenly, unexpectedly achieved. A hand held. A shooting star. A crashing wave. A glowing moon. A kiss. The moment becomes its own universe, a place never wished against, a place wandering thoughts always revisit.

Failing to read the eyes, perhaps If I could read minds, then I would see the signs. But blinded by intoxicating vision I walk down paths of familiar unfamiliarity. I see what I want to feel. I feel happy, I feel frozen.

Standing on this path I look around, wandering, wondering, "where should I walk". I look at a sign. Straining, reading it through its back, mentally mirroring it as I go, I realize the time.

It is too late.

I lost.

... and now I hurt.

I often dream and perhaps more often than not, I am lucky enough that I can remember what I have dreamt.

This morning was much like many mornings as of late. Too comfortable or too lazy to move, I lay in bed, hiding from the cold, recalling a dream similar to that of many.

I dreamt that I could fly. Though unsure of my form, nonetheless I could soar. The view was incredible; no barriers, complete freedom, friends as plentiful as the winds could carry. Far below, unaware or uncaring, familiar sights went about dealing with their plights. Moving, signing, smiling and crying, all while I soared about, far from their sight.

Slowly though, the winds died as the sun crept from the sky, its less brilliant, more pure mirror moving to takes its place high above. I could feel the cold filling the space around me, the view diminishing.

I fluttered to a landing just as the sky took to gold; Sol was being swallowed by an unforgiving horizon. Helpless, I stood and watched as the air grew colder, the fog rushing in around me. For what could I do?

As the darkness began to take hold above and below me all form was lost. I found myself in a dimensionless space, far between the places I had come from and had wanted to go.
I sat, taking firm hold of my landing. I closed my eyes, denying my surroundings, waiting for the feeling to return, for the wind to fill my wings.

Yesterday I had one of those moments where you're simply paralyzed by thought.

I had been in the shower running the current circumstances of my life through my mind, trying to calculate outcomes, or at the very least, trying to establish a list of likely outcomes.

After feeling refreshed I came back to my desk and looked at the letter I had just written, addressed to no one but my future self. Its thoughts flooded through me, the last 2 weeks replaying in full.

Suddenly I felt Cold. Yet I was dry, only my hair dripping. How long had I been standing in thought? 5 minutes? 10?. The ink of the letter had run, streaking down the page and was now pooling on the desk.

"How Appropriate", I thought as I stood watching the writing wash away, "Left with nothing to hold onto but yet, given a clean page."