nolan

I grew up in (and write this from) an isolated farm in the bush of British Columbia. The summers are short and the winters are harsh. At least they used to be. For about ten years I lived without electricity, just a few hours in the evening when the generator would start. I spent most of my childhood in the dark. Literally, and in the sense that my isolated location provided very little cultural stimulation or education. All I knew of the rest of the world I got through a small amount of CBC TV and a lot of Radio (again CBC). I loved to read however and I would stay up long into the night with my books reading by kerosene lamp. In the deep silence of our house buried under snow and not humming with electricity I found a solace long since lost. A solace from the rest of the world. From the bullies at school and all of my foolish behavior there. In such a silence the hiss of the lamp becomes very loud. A tiny sound that leaves your ears ringing after you extingush it with a deft and practiced blow. Outside the nights are deep. Anywhere below minus 20 centigrade and the sky is clear. At minus 40 it seems like there is no air at all. It hurts to breathe. But when the water is frozen in the lines and you have to go outside to pee there are wonderful things to keep you company in the stillness. From the barnyard you can hear the creaking of the hooves of the animals as they shift ever so slightly. Across the fields and across the river the distant sound of howling wolves seems very near. Sound carries so far. So far in fact that when you look up and listen carefully you can hear the sound of the northern lights tearing wildly across the sky. In the summer my family travelled. We tented our way across the continent, visiting every province and territory in Canada and Northern and Western States. Since I left home I have continued to travel, living for two years in Halifax before embarking on a journey that changed my life. I left Halifax totally broke and destitute. My only option was to return home for work. Having no money I decided to hitchhike. Five days later I was home, more than 5000 kms of road. In the summer of '03 I spent 60 days fighting the forest fire in Barriere as a member of the Barriere Volunteer Fire Department. My experience there is something that I find difficult to talk about. Long hours, large responsibility and an social environment made unstable and bizarre by the huge degree of loss suffered by the community. So I went to Mexico. Then Puerto Rico. I lived a year in Puerto Rico trying rather ineffectively to cross the gringo-rican barrier and generally taking on a lot of sun while helping develop a tiny beachfront property into more accomodation for gringos. Many a late night ended with a romantic walk home alone along the beach or a skinny dip in bioluminescent water with some of the more beautiful people I have ever met. Life is lived by the day, by the week there. No more than that. To plan any further would be an insult. It makes things very simple. And then you realise a year has gone by and you are in the same place as you were before and you have to choose to either re-enter western society and attempt to accomplish things you once dreamed of, or stay and never do anything more than work a few hours a day, play a few hours a day, eat great ovepriced food, avoid tourists, and watch the sun go down through the open walls of any bar in town. Oh yeah, and watch your friends drown their livers like they hate themselves. Now I go to Wood School...This profile was edited with MySpace Profile Editor MySpace Profile Editor