Mandolin

I’ve been playing the guitar for a little over five years now. It’s not very much, but I feel like I’ve reached my “summit” when it comes to playing it. I consider myself to be a lazy guitar player, that is, I learned all the chords I needed to pay the songs I wanted to, but would never go so far as learning how to play barre chords. I’ve got too short fingers (that’s my excuse), basically, I’m too lazy, thus I think I could learn much more and achieve much more, but I don’t want to practice.

I’ve had the privilege to own two guitars (thanks dad), one I had I brought in Saskatchewan while the other stayed home. I sold one in Saskatchewan and I think it’s now somewhere in Manitoba. And I’ve kept the other one until now. I guess I’ll keep it until it dies or I don’t know.

My brother-in-law’s got a mandolin. I sort of liked the idea of learning a “new” instrument that would probably not be so hard to learn since I already knew how to play the guitar. It’s to be sure, not the same, but I really like its high “pitch” that gives some warm flavor to the whole when it accompanies other instruments.

I got myself a mandolin! Thanks to my uncle who diligently searched for it on the Internet. It’s a second hand Dean’s playmate, it’s four years old but looks like new, ah and on top of that, it’s electro acoustic -like I’m going to need that (!!!). The guy who sold it to me lived near Montreal so we met at a metro station and yeah, I’ve got one now.

Bad, bad connection!

Just a quick post to entertain all of those who are tired of reading the same post (because I am sure millions of people are waiting to read something new on my blog).

It’s been a week or so that our Internet signal at home is strange. Well, for my laptop anyways. My laptop (well, the desk on which it sits) is at about 10 meters from the signal machine (I can’t remember how it’s called), but the signal is always “very low” or “low”. Thus I need to get closer to the signal machine (man how is it called again!) to get a better signal. I move in the living room, at one end of the couch: signal is very good. Neat! But after a few minutes, the signal is “low”. I move to the other end of the couch and the signal is “very good”. Ah man that’s just crazy. I’m glad I didn’t have that problem when I was doing my four-hour exam on the Internet last Wednesday!

I really don’t know what’s wrong. When I go somewhere else, like a library or at university, the signal is always super fine, but when I’m at home, even at 10 meters from the signal thing, I still get low connection.

I hope you enjoyed this post.

George MacDonald

Creation in Christ

“But if God is so good as you represent Him, and if He knows all that we need, and better far than we do ourselves, why should it be necessary to ask him for anything?”

I answer, What if He knows prayer to be the thing we need first and most? what if the main object in God’s idea of prayer be the supplying of our great, our endless need - the need of Himself? What if the good of all our smaller and lower needs lies in this, that they help to drive us to God?

Hunger may drive the runaway child home, and he may or may not be fed at once, but he needs his mother more than his inner. Communion with God is the one need of th soul beyond all other need; prayer is the beginning of that communion, and some need is the motive of that prayer. Our wants are for the sake of our coming into communion with God out eternal need.

If gratitude and love immediately followed the supply of our needs, of God our Savior was the one thought of our hearts, then it might be unnecessary that we should ask for anything we need. But seeing we take our supplies as a matter of course, feeling as if they came out of nothing, or from the earth, or our own thoughts - instead of out of a heart of love and a will which alone is force - it is needful that we should be made to feel some at least of our wants, that we may seek Him who alone supplies all of them, and find His every gift a window to His heart of truth.

So begins a communion, a talking with God, a coming-to-one with Him, which is the sole end of prayer, yea, of existence itself in its infinite phases. We must ask that we may receive; but that we should receive what we ask in respect of our lower needs, is not God’s end in making us pray, for He could give us everything without that. To bring His child to His knee, God withholds that man may ask.

- George MacDonald

I’ll go with the family

Well, to continue the chain, here it is folks:

i am: Gabrielle
i think: , well that’s all I seem to do
i know: too much and do too little
i want: to be done with this unnatural semester
i have: a peanut butter taste in my mouth
i wish: I’d have really short hair
i hate: sin in my life
i miss: my little sister and mme Josefson
i fear: turbulences in planes
i feel: that I need to put my pjs on
i hear: my roommates yelling for the Habs
i smell: la poudre de perlinpinpin!
i crave: perogies
i search: myself
i wonder: why I love so little
i regret: to love so little
i love: so little
i ache: for the blind who believe they see
i care: about what’s true
i always: breathe
i am not: cool
i believe: Jesus is the Christ
i dance: only for Jesus
i sing: … when I do
i cry: too little
i don’t always: care
i fight: lies
i write: these very letters
i win: only against my nephew, but even there…
i lose: always against Corinne
i never: eat tofu
i confuse: my left from my right
i listen: yes I do
i can usually be found: in my room
i am scared: of being lazy
i need: a friend
i am happy about: the fact that I’ll go to bed in a little while

Steak?

Every once in a while my friend and I get together and have coffee somewhere downtown. Well I never actually have coffee since I quite dislike the taste of it, but anyways. My friend called me last night to tell me plans had changed and we were instead having supper at her place since a friend of hers had invited himself over. I asked her what I could bring, so I brought rice and a loaf of bread I’d made that very day and ah yeah, some fries we were stuck with.

My friend’s guest (who’s a friend of mine too), had brought some sort of meat that he called “steak”. But none of us were sure about it. The first thing I said when I saw the “meat” was, “Liver!” But I seriously had no clue what liver was like. So anyways. Our guy friend obviously didn’t help us to prepare the supper (well, I mean, not all guys are like that and I’m sure he’s not that lazy all the time….) so we were stuck cooking his “meat”, not knowing what we were cooking. My friend was a little reluctant at the idea of cooking it, so, well, I did. I cooked it as a steak (with my great experience in cooking steak…) and yep, supper was ready.

There happened to be another friend - who’s a cook. She tried the “steak” and affirmed that this was no steak, but rather, liver. So we sort of laughed, because you don’t cook liver as you cook steak. The liver was sort of, extra, extra cooked. The joke now is: When you have to eat liver and you don’t like it, ask that it be overcooked… that way, it tastes quite fine!

Anyways, I think it’s kind of funny that I had the privilege to cook liver thinking it was steak. Quite bad eh?

the City

I left the classroom. Walked down some stairs, then more. I walked in a tunnel, on the wrong side. I passed pop machines and mars bars, I turned left. I walked up a few stairs and noticed there was -again- something going on at the auditorium. I got through the university doors and turned left. I got my metro pass out, swiped it and got in. I walked to the other side of the rectangle, walked down the stairs, then some more stairs and turned left. I stopped and opened my book. Oh, I looked at the giant screen. 3 minutes before the next metro would be in. I got in the wagon (well, 3 minutes later). I looked around me. Again there was a grandma looking pretty … “sharp” dressed in the height of fashion (well, stuck in my generation’s clothes). And again there was someone talking to an imaginary friend, walking up and down the wagon. We stopped at one station. Than another. Until we reached the one before another one. I got out and walked the stairs. I noticed the yellow raincoat girl. I had seen her a week ago or so. She again seemed in a deep conversation with someone. But I was never able to see this “someone”. And I will not write about the … well, the rest.

I enjoy living in the city, but it feels so good to get out at times.

Love Bade Me Welcome

By George Herbert

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back

Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack

From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning

If I lacked anything.

“A guest,” I answered, “worthy to be here”;

Love said, “You shall be he.”

“I, the unkind, the ungrateful? Ah my dear,

I cannot look on thee.”

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

“who made the eyes but I?”

“Truth, Lord, but I have marred them; let my shame

Go where it doth deserve.”

“And know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”

“My dear, then I will serve.”

“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”

So I did sit and eat.

I wanna “sick”

Well, it seems that I speak in the language of Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange.

You see, because of the strike that was ended two weeks ago, I had to spend my Saturday at university, spending eight hours in the same classroom (although we had breaks and lunch and the last one and a half hours were overtime we put in to work on a team project).

I have been quite frustrated with a project we’ve been putting together. Working with a team is never easy stuff when you’re building an LES. Ah, you don’t know what an LES is eh? Don’t worry about it. But anyways, lots of misunderstanding, immaturity, pride, selfishness, tears, bitterness and a lack of good leadership were involved. I’m glad that after a time we all resigned to simply start working as a team and humbly do what had to be done.

I am tired and sick of this project that I find somewhat uninteresting and not engaging. I’m tired of the pressure and the mending that constantly needs to be doing. People are so easily upset and bitter. I’m at a point where I don’t really care about the end-product and the grade we’ll get, I just want to be done, done with it all.

I knew you would enjoy such an entry. Sorry. The good thing right now is that my roommate is playing some nice guitar, which makes me feel like day dreaming for the rest of my days.

Off to…

Hello there,

I just wanted to let the world know that I’ll be off to Sherbrooke for the summer (!). I must say that it’s been two years now that I’ve spent in Montréal and it’ll be good to see something else… that is less… less like Montréal eh.

What for? Oh, you know I’m a student so I need to work during the summer (and during the year when I’m not lazy or too busy) so I’ll be working in an English immersion day camp with a beloved friend.

Oh, and if anyone would need to rent a room in Montréal from mid-June to mid-August, let me know, my roommates would be thrilled to have a third person in the apartment while I’m gone.

It’s ALL Over

Intense afternoon. We met at Le Métropolis at 12:30 and got out around 5pm. After 8 weeks of strike, the so-called “mouvement” was gasping for breath, but not wanting to lose face, the faculty leaders proposed to lower our demands on the university, so low, so that they would be met in a day or so, which would end the strike and make us feel as if we were great victors. Some people disagreed and wanted to continue the strike with still strong demands, others were fine with the low ones and still others just wanted to be done with the strike. With a lot of ups and downs, threats and fears, the majority (finally) voted to END THE STRIKE! Classes are starting tomorrow morning!