Fabric

Do not dwell on the things in life that you can live without, be strong, be pure, embrace the person you are and welcome with open arms the person who you are meant to be. Understand that you can not run away from your destiny, it is woven into your personal fabric. Be not the person who seeks to unravel their fabric and make it anew, be the person who strives to be the best that they can be with the materials given to them.

Imagine..

The twisted scent of tropical fruit and crisp red roses scatter their way through the corridors and up the stairs into the ballroom. The ballroom is packed with eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. Elegant gowns flutter and caress the tails of dark mysterious tuxedos. The band plays 'New York New York' on their shiny spangled trumpets and saxophones. The crowd sways with each enchanted beat, as if the music haunts the most memorable moments in their lives.

The most expensive wine and h'ors d'ouevres are being served by waiters and waitresses in matching uniforms and white gloves. Glass chandeliers hang from the ceiling and sparkle through the entire ballroom, the essence of magic is present. Beautiful red silk table cloths drape over the glass dining tables and cling to the legs of the guests sitting at them.

Suddenly, the ship's horn sounds and a loud crash penetrates through the walls, a large wave captures the ship and sends glass and debris flying.

The captain comes over the radio and says, "ATTENTION, all hands on deck!" As if panic wasn't already sending hot pulses throughout the veins of those on board; the once beautiful and serene boat fills with water and eliminates any real chance of escape or survival...

Flashing Blue Light.

Flashing Blue Light.
You deviously pierce through my closed blinds and erotically dance on my walls at night - like a mirage that is in the distance, only really there to haunt me and to tease me. You force me to imagine my life as it were - before you started to disturb me, to hurt me. Seeing you makes my heart stop and cold blood run through my veins. Your presence scares me. Intimidates me.

You are like a signal to my soul, the thing that tells me to "get over it" to "move on" and "let live" - you are that image in my mind whenever I wonder if I have made a mistake. You are the thing that angers me and saddens me. You are my own personal sense of denial - the thing that makes me wish I did things better. You make me wonder what I did wrong to deserve you here. I don't want you here.

Luckily you are now gone, the nightmares and the sadness have subsided. I no longer feel that I am under your power nor do I feel vulnerable in your presence. I have left you behind. You are now but a mere thing of my past for you are a product of her. Of her car. You can have him for I have moved on.

Pre-Exam Combat

The pre-exam jitters are already marching throughout my body in their attempt at creating an impenetrable battalion of nerves and angst. My stomach serves as the base-camp where the jitters have strategically forced the defending troops into retreat. It seems inevitable that my defense is down, that my own body can't even suppress the combative parts of my world. My brain is being poked, prodded and shocked from all angles - the amount of information that it is required to retain is extensive. At the end of a long day it feels as though there is a platoon of terrorists alongside the jitters - strapping my brain into a homemade bomb.

It is just like me to sacrifice all I can for another, to save them from a burning building, a hostage situation, or trench warfare - to suppress my own feelings and openly commit to the needs of others. Maybe that is where my so-called defense lies. My selflessness is to blame; Or perhaps it is the blood of a true Canadian that runs through my veins that influences peace and prosperity in my little soldiers. I am strong, I am proud and I am true - but we cannot let the jitters overcome us!

We will do what it takes! so, launch hot maple syrup bombs, coat your sore bodies with RUB A535, soak their combat suits with itching powder, bite, scratch, pull hair, spike their morning Timmies with laxatives; smoke bombs, chlorine-gas and rabid squirrels are a must.

Prepare for warfare my brave little soldiers, prepare to fight back. Prepare for bloodshed and pain. Raise those flags high and gear yourselves up for this monumental moment of defense; and remember: show no mercy!



Colleen Wilkinson