Iron and Wine: Such Great Heights Cover

This is a cover of my favourite song, "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service. Have a listen. It's beautiful and eerie at the same time.

Manitoba's Hidden Gems: Saints Peter and Paul Ukranian Catholic Church

It has taken me awhile to update my “Manitoba” section of my blog, but thankfully I had another opportunity to visit the country a few months ago. I went to my boyfriend’s farm again, and this time we visited an old, unused church.

We drove up to the cemetery where the church is located around dusk on a cloudy, quiet evening. There was still some light, although the sun was setting quickly in the background. As we got out of the car, and hopped over the barbed-wire fence, I was struck by an ominous and uncertain feeling. I felt as though we were doing something wrong by visiting this church. Jeff assured me that it was open to the public, and I followed him closely as we walked through a large field to reach the church.

There are actually two buildings – the church itself, and the bell tower. Jeff could not convince me to go into the bell tower building, even though I will admit that I was curious. The door was easy to open, but the inside was a mess. There were stairs (sort of) winding around the inside walls. They were about two or three storey’s high, and at the top, was the bell. It still actually worked, but we are not sacrilegious enough to ring it. I was concerned that the stairs were not sturdy enough to hold both our weights, and Jeff grudgingly agreed that I was right.

The actual church itself was incredible. The door – as Jeff predicted – was unlocked, and anyone was free to walk in. The inside was dark, slightly damp, yet perfectly preserved. There were about eight pews in the small room, each one facing towards a beautiful altar. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Behind the altar was a room with a bible, written in Ukrainian. It was just sitting there, waiting to be picked up, read, and examined. A small room in the back probably used to be the Minister’s quarters, and I did not feel comfortable going in there.

In the main room, above the pews, was a small balcony. Jeff hoisted me up a very sketchy looking ladder, and we looked down on the main room. It was peaceful and serene, yet frightening at the same time. As we looked towards the altar, a large clap of thunder sounded outside. I have to admit, I was worried I would turn a corner and discover a dead body stashed somewhere. I voiced this concern to Jeff, who wasted no time telling me I was being ridiculous. No one comes to the country to kill someone, he said. It’s too far away.

To provide a bit of background, this particular church has been around since 1901. It was restored in 1978, and opens annually on July 12 for a public service and a picnic. Similar to Marconi School – which I wrote about in an earlier blog post – the church is maintained locally, and is open to the public. There is a guestbook (which I signed), and place to make donations. It is incredible that no one has vandalized the church, because the inside is truly beautiful.

On the way out, we visited the cemetery, and found gravestones dating back to the early 1900’s. It really put things in perspective for me as I looked around. People lived, worked, loved, and died in this area, and are still doing so today. Sometimes, in the city, I forget there is an entire other world in the country. People are everywhere, doing the same things we are, hoping and praying they will make it through life safely. Next time we visit the farm, Jeff is taking me to a mass grave. I can’t imagine how I will feel standing there…

Today in History...1865

December 18, 1865 - slavery was abolished in the USA. The Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution officially ended and prohibited slavery and involuntary servitude (except as punishment for a crime, of course). It was called the "Thirteenth Amendment" because there were twelve amendments adopted before it. They just didn't work out as well as expected, I guess.

Ending slavery was a huge step in the USA, but as we know, there was still a long way to go before all people living in America were considered to be equal.

This Dude Was An Idiot...

... too bad he isn't real!


A family somewhere put this up as a Christmas decoration. They were forced to take it down after two days, as many people came to the house screaming and yelling at the front door for help.

A 63-year-old woman actually grabbed the ladder, climbed it, and attempted to rescue the "stranded" individual. Apparently an onlooker said "boy, was she pissed!"

I understand the need to be festive and creative this holiday season, and I have to admit that I laughed when I saw the picture. I do, however, also understand why such a set-up would anger some people, especially honest and kind-hearted people who attempted to help the "person" attached to the house.

In my opinion, the moral of the story is this: be creative and festive this holiday season, but don't be a jack ass.

The Projector: The Hydration Situation

Here's another story I wrote for the school newspaper...

The push towards healthy living and lifestyle choices in the past few years have made it increasingly difficult to determine what people should put into their bodies. The issues of hydration and fluid consumption are extremely important, yet are overlooked by most. The latest fads of energy drinks, sports drinks, and mineral waters make it all the more important for people to understand the importance of proper hydration, and which fluids a person should consume each day.

Kathy Malone, a Registered Nurse, immediately dispelled the myth that a person needs 8 glasses of water a day to stay healthy. She explained that it’s “not water, but fluids that are important to consume throughout the day.” Fluids extend beyond beverages, and include many foods such as soups, fruit, ice cream, Jellos, and puddings. “Every organ needs water,” Malone explained, “so get fluids!”

While it is important to consume fluids continually throughout the day, they type of fluids a person ingests are also key. Dallas McEvoy, a first year Computer Analyst Programming student at Red River College, said that he usually drinks “water in the morning and at night,” and usually “a diet coke” during the day. McEvoy explained that the amount of fluids he consumes “depends on the day.” McEvoy also admitted he doesn’t drink as much as he should. Lisa Rowson, a second year Creative Communications student, chooses to drink water because “it’s very healthful. It’s just the easy choice.” She also added, “I’m really bad for drinking tea and coffee.”

When asked which fluids are not recommended to consume, Malone said “I wouldn’t touch Redbull.” She also didn’t believe it was necessary to consume mineral waters and sports drinks - such as Powerade - on a daily basis for a moderately active individual (such as a college student). “Just for fluids,” she explained, “water’s fine.” Malone also believes “there’s a media push for advertising purposes,” and consumers are told they need these specialized fluids to live a healthy life. In reality, drinking lots of water and eating the right foods will provide both the nutrients and fluids a person needs to remain healthy.

Another important hydration related issue is dehydration. It results when the body expels a higher number of fluids that it takes in. Malone explained that “you can’t wait until you’re thirsty to say ‘I need fluids’.” When asked to describe the most obvious and immediate symptoms of dehydration, Malone said “thirst is number one and headache is number two.” McEvoy commented that he could usually tell he was dehydrated, “if it’s really bad.” Rowson explained dehydration as “that cotton ball feeling in my mouth after a night of drinking.” She also explained that occasionally, “I’ll mistake thirst for hunger.”

Christmas Trees Around The World...

It's Christmas time! For me, the best parts of Christmas are looking at decorated trees, and driving by houses covered with lights. I was sent the following photos in an e-mail forward recently, and decided to post them here.

One year, my family went to Maui right around Christmas time. We had a great vacation, yet what bothered me was that there were no REAL Christmas trees anywhere! Everyone decorated palm trees, which I thought was very weird. The fact that it was about 30 degrees out didn't help either...

Another year, when I was still living in Calgary, it didn't snow at ALL during Christmas. Christmas Eve there was no snow, Christmas Day there was no snow, and even on Boxing Day it wouldn't snow. That really bothered me! We live in Canada, a country which has SEASONS, so I believe we should have snow every single year...

Thankfully, this year we will have snow! I will attempt to improve my snowboarding skills (for the fourth year in a row), go tobogganing in the middle of the night, drink my weight in hot chocolate + Bailey's, and everything will be just as it should be. I absolutely love these pictures, and I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays no matter where they celebrate this winter. Stay warm!

An Unlikely Companion

DISCLAIMER: This story may look long, but I promise you can read it in ten minutes. I wrote it for my Creative Writing class a month ago...

The barn was cold, dark, and damp, yet it offered the only refuge Katrina had found all day. Forcing the sliding barn door to close behind her, she threw herself onto an inviting pile of hay in the corner. Screaming, shouting, and footsteps were clearly audible through the cracks in the barn walls. St. Petersburg was in a state of distress, and Katrina had spent hours wandering the dangerous streets in an attempt to find a secure hiding place. Only this morning she had been warm and protected in her home, the Alexander Palace. Now she was wet and exhausted, forced mercilessly into the February cold. Katrina prayed that the angry rioters outside would not hurt those she cared about at the palace. The Romanov’s were more than simply the Royal Family to Katrina. They were her family, and she shuddered in fear at the thought of what could be happening to them. Katrina wept bitterly at the cruel fate that had encompassed her, burying her face in the stale hay. What was happening to her Russia? What was happening to her life?

A few hours later, dusk settled in, and the noises outside were reduced to an occasional yell. It seemed the majority of the rioters had finally decided to seek their own shelter for the night. Suddenly, Katrina was roused from her self-pitying, dreamlike state to the sounds of footsteps outside the barn door. She quietly pulled her cloak around her body, hiding her tear-stained face. She held her breath, hoping the person outside was a harmless farmer searching for a place to relieve himself before going to sleep. A moment passed, then another. Katrina began to breathe again. Maybe it had been her imagination, and no one was lurking outside the door. She slowly lifted up the edge of her cloak, in preparation to gaze through the darkness. At that exact moment, the barn door rolled opened loudly, and Katrina screamed.

The intruder was much quicker than Katrina had anticipated. Before she had a chance to cry for help, she found herself flat on her back with a hand covering her mouth. Her arms were pinned at her sides, and a heavy shape sat squarely on her chest. Struggling to breathe, Katrina attempted unsuccessfully to scream again.

“Quiet your mouth, woman,” a male voice hoarsely whispered in her ear. “Do you want them to come in here and find us both?” Despite her better judgment, Katrina stopped struggling. As terrified as she was of this individual, she fully realized a large group of men would be much worse. Katrina forced her body to relax, and her intruder climbed off of her and rolled next to her in the hay. Scared, yet somewhat curious, Katrina turned towards the individual who compromised her sanctuary. Sitting up, and gathering her cloak and rumpled skirts tightly around her small, shivering body, Katrina sat face to face with her new companion.

Moonlight shone through the dilapidated walls, and Katrina could see her intruder was a young man. He looked to be about her age, possibly 18 or 19 years old. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown, and his face was smeared with mud and other unidentifiable grime. His clothing was homemade and dirty. Suddenly very aware of her second-hand silk gown and embroidered bodice, Katrina pulled the cloak tighter around her. She looked back towards the face of the young man, only to discover a pair of piercing, deep blue eyes were staring right back at her. They were the most beautiful eyes Katrina had ever seen, and for a brief moment, Katrina forgot herself entirely.

The young man spoke, forcing Katrina back to reality. “Why’s a high-class lady like you hiding in a dirty barn? You afraid of what’s going on outside?” His Russian was oddly accented, and hinted poor education and rough lifestyle. Katrina quickly became annoyed, as this young man had intruded on her and was now questioning her. She jumped up in a shower of clothing and hay, and began pacing back and forth on the hard dirt floor.

“What am I doing here? You break into my hiding place, scare me half to death, assault me, and have the nerve to ask what I am doing here? I do not have to tell you anything! I would appreciate it if you would leave this place at once!” As she finished talking, Katrina turned back towards the pile of hay. The blue eyes were watching her again, and to her amazement, they seemed to sparkle with amusement. With exaggerated effort, the boy stood up, walked towards the door, and intentionally brushed past Katrina as he did so.

“Beg your pardon. I didn’t realize this was a barn for rich ladies only.” He had his hand on the door, and was about to slide it opened, when a series of gunshots exploded outside. Running footsteps, shouting, and more gunshots were all Katrina heard before she threw herself back into the pile of hay. Feeling movement beside her, Katrina realized the boy had jumped in beside her. She hated to admit it, but she was thankful for his presence.

Roughly thirty minutes passed. From her hiding place, Katrina deducted that the police were attempting to round up a group of the rioters. She believed – and hoped – that the gunfire was only a scare tactic. Cautiously lifting her head for the second time that evening, Katrina looked to where the boy had hidden himself. He was lying on top of the hay, fast asleep and generally unaware of the potential danger that lurked on the other side of the door. Katrina quietly moved closer, and prodded his sleeping side with her foot. Seeing he was beginning to rouse, she poked harder.

“Hey, hey! Boy! Wake up!” He yawned, opened his eyes, and looked directly at Katrina.

“I was sleeping.” He attempted to roll over, but Katrina refused to allow the conversation to end there. Things appeared to be quieting outside, and she wanted to know who he was.

“Wake up,” she loudly whispered. “Aren’t you worried they will come back?”

“No,” he replied, as he slowly sat up and faced her. “And if they do, I bet they’ll be lookin’ for you more than me.” He looked Katrina up and down, taking in her expensive gown, freshly-washed hair, and shoes. “Looks to me like you’ve more reason to hide than I do.”

Katrina hated to admit it, but the boy was right. It had been a well-known fact for years that the Russian people were dissatisfied with Tsar Nicholas II and his wife, Alexandra. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand II in Serbia, and the resulting outbreak of the Great War, had only worsened the situation. The Russian people initially supported the Tsar’s decision to go to war in 1914. Now, three years later, millions of Russian soldiers were dead, and Nicholas was hated even more. Katrina had known Nicholas for her entire life, and met Alexandra in 1894. She believed the couple did not deserve the negativity forced upon them, yet she realized a long time ago that revolution was inevitable. Now that the moment had finally arrived, however, Katrina was more afraid than ever.

Busy with her own thoughts, Katrina did not realize the boy had started rummaging through his shirt pockets. Taking an interest in his actions, Katrina moved closer. “What are you doing there, boy?” she asked curiously.

He stopped rummaging, and pulled a partial loaf of bread from his shirt. Smiling proudly, he tore the loaf in half, and offered a piece Katrina. Realizing she had not eaten since the previous evening, she accepted the bread and smiling sheepishly. She was beginning to regret being so rude to him.

“If we’re stuck here together, miss, you might as well stop calling me ‘boy’,” he replied, in between bites. “The name’s Demitri. Demitri Fedorovich. Nice to meet you.” Katrina chewed the bread silently. Surely this boy was harmless. Holding out her hand, and forcing a smile, Katrina looked into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Demitri,” she said quietly. “My name is Katrina Alexandrovich, and you are welcome to share my hiding place for the evening.”

Demitri smiled, and returned to his bread. Ignoring her better judgment, Katrina moved closer, and the unlikely pair of young adults shared a meal of stale bread in a strange sort of comfortable silence.

It was some time later, while stretched out upon the hay, that the young pair attempted to have a real conversation.

“What brings you to a deserted barn in the middle of the night?” Katrina asked, turning towards him and propping herself up with an elbow. “You must be hiding from something.”

Demitri also turned, and assumed a similar position. He regarded her face carefully, and not without suspicion. He knew no more about this strange girl than she knew about him, and was unsure of how much information to give away. Deciding it was harmless to talk, he shrugged.

“I got caught up in the revolution, same as you, I guess. I was at work, and a big group of women walked by. They threw rocks at the windows, and yelled as us to come out and walk with them. Many of the men did.”

Katrina shook her head. Things must be more awful than she imagined.

“What did you do?” Katrina asked, feeling slightly ill at the thought of women yelling on the streets.

“I joined in,” Demitri said simply.

“Why?”

“I really had no choice.” Demitri sighed. “You don’t know what it’s like on the streets, Katrina. The poverty takes over a person. We can’t buy nothin’ anymore. People are starving, and dying.”

Katrina shook her head, refusing to believe his words. “That can’t be true! They said things were improving, that people were happier. They said the war brought the Russian people together again. They said…” Katrina stopped, and realized Demitri was watching her quizzically. Fearing she had inadvertently given away too much information, Katrina rolled over and turned her back to him.

A moment later, a hand rested lightly on her arm. From behind her, Demitri spoke quietly. He didn`t try to make her turn over and listen to him.

“So, you’re royalty, aren’t ya?” Demitri must have felt Katrina stiffen at the question, because he quickly removed his hand. A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Don`t worry, I won’t give you up. I knew the first moment I saw you that you were rich, or important, or somethin’. I promise to keep you safe, and won`t let anythin’ happen to you tonight.”

Katrina truly trusted this boy, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she liked him. Demitri seemed honest, and he was the only working-class person Katrina had met who had not scorned her for serving the Romanov’s. Feeling more comfortable, Katrina rolled over, desperate to share her story with someone. Who knew when it would be safe to speak of the Romanov’s openly again.

“I am not royalty, “she began, feeling it necessary to be honest. “I am… was a maid … to the Duchesses. However, I grew to be a friend, then a sister. My parents died when I was a little girl, and the Tsarina decided I should stay at the palace with the Royal Family. They are good to me… were good to me… oh dear, I don’t even know what’s happened to them!” Her last words flooded out in a torrent of emotion, and before she realized it, Katrina was sobbing. Demitri pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist as she cried. He gently rocked her back and forth, and whispered soothing words into her ear.

It must have been difficult to comfort her. Demitri despised the Romanov`s. He shared the frustration that most Russians did, and was relieved the poor were finally taking action. He was planning to join what was quickly becoming a revolution the following day, and was excited for the coming changes Russians would witness. Still, he felt for the tiny girl in his arms. She was so obviously distressed. Demitri slowly rocked Katrina back and forth, and after a time, she stopped crying.

Finally gaining control of her emotions, Katrina slid off Demitri`s lap and shyly avoided his eyes. She mumbled a quiet “thank you,” when he offered his sleeve as a makeshift handkerchief, and pretended to busy herself by reorganizing her skirts. Inwardly, Katrina was embarrassed by her reaction. Demitri had just disclosed that he was starving, and she was crying over nothing. What different lives they led! Suddenly exhausted, Katrina lay down and pulled her cloak over her body for warmth. A few moments passed, and Katrina remembered Demitri was dressed poorly. She hesitated for a moment, but despite her better judgement she raised her head and softly called to him through the darkness.

“You may share my cloak with me, if you like. I know you must be freezing.” There was a brief silence, followed by a rustling in the hay as Demitri settled behind her. He offered his arm as a pillow and the pair lay in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Time passed. Eventually, Demitri spoke through the dark.

“Katrina,” he ventured in the dark.

“Mmpphh,” was the almost incoherent reply.

“You`re the most beautiful woman I`ve ever met, and I`ll never forget you.” There was no response. After a moment, Demitri closed his eyes and stopped waiting for an answer. If Katrina was asleep, or simply would not respond, he would never know.

The sound of voices forced Katrina from sleep. Streams of daylight shone through the barn walls, indicating it was morning. Katrina sat up and stretched, painfully attempting to work the cramps out of her arms and legs. It took a moment before she realized she was alone. Scanning the barn with her eyes as she struggled to stand, a spot on the floor caught her attention. In the dirt, in front of the door, a message had been written. Katrina squinted to make out what it said.

“Sorry to leave without saying goodbye. Must find out what happens next. Good luck. Demitri.” Katrina sighed. He had left without waking her up to say goodbye. What had he gone to do? It was silly to think, even for a moment, that Demitri could have been anything more to her than a stranger in the night. These were times of war, revolution, and change, and he was fighting on the opposite side.

Rolling the barn door opened, she stepped into the busy street. She had no idea where she was going, yet knew she needed to keep moving. Russia was changing, and Katrina was determined to secure her future. She bravely walked down the street littered with sleeping bodies, garbage, and blood. Gradually, her silhouette disappeared against the early morning fog, and the next phase of her journey officially began.

Stop the Chewing Gum Madness!

On Monday, my friend Tiffany wore an awesome pair of new black pants to school. They were an early Christmas present from her girlfriend, and they were fantastic. During Broadcasting class, she was the "talent" in a game show, and knelt down on the floor for one reason or another. She didn't discover until later that someone had decided to drop their gum on the floor, and that very same gum was now stuck to her new pants. She managed to remove the gum - thankfully - but was less than impressed that someone decided the floor was a good place to discard unwanted foodstuff. I was annoyed that this happened to her, and I decided to write a blog about it.

Yesterday, I was very tired. I was also slightly cranky. When I am overly sleepy, I refuse to put on actual pants, and instead wear my Lulu lemon yoga pants to school. I did this yesterday, because for some reason, feeling like I'm in pajamas on a sleepy day makes me feel more productive. It was the second-last class of the day, and I was looking forward to going home, WHEN TRAGEDY STRUCK! I have very long legs, and as a result, always have my adjustable chair on the highest possible setting. I was sitting in Journalism class, and realized that the top of my leg was somehow stuck to the underside of the desk I was sitting at. I pulled my leg free, and to my dismay I realized that someone had recently stuck their chewing gum underneath the table. I now had a very large piece of gum stuck to my pants, and like Tiffany the day before, I was thoroughly unimpressed.

My story does not have a happy ending. The gum would not remove itself from my pants, no matter what I tried, and my safe, comfortable, good for a sleepy day pants are now ruined. I want to express my anger and frustration at this situation, and I hope that the person who stuck their gum to the table will read this blog. Find a garbage can or a piece of paper. Do something, ANYTHING else; gum is meant to be in a person's mouth, or a garbage can.

Did you know that chewing gum was banned in Singapore in 1992? The act was revised in 2004, and only gum of "therapeutic value" is allowed in the country. This law was created because of the very thing I am complaining about: people discarded of gum in stupid places, such as under tables or chairs and on the ground. I know that Canadians would be very angry if we were suddenly told we could no longer have chewing gum, so do the right thing. Throw it out. Don't ruin someone's day.