I don't usually write personal blogs because I didn't want to appear as a bandwagon jumper. But, like everything else, I figure if I do it in moderation, it's acceptable. As long as I've got something interesting or different to say, it could be worth saying it. I'm sure one of you people out there are reading it. Actually, maybe you're sitting there, trying to think of something enjoyable and free too. I wonder what the maybe count will be when I'm done with this.
Now that school is done for a bit, and my job is on pause until January, I'm left with a lot of extra time to find something that makes me feel productive. Nothing to study, no timing to prepare for. I've eaten a panini sandwich, slept ten hours, played Call of Duty: Black Ops, cleaned my room, showered, I'm seeing all my friends tonight, so what now? I guess I'll write.
Here, I'll tell you something random instead of just writing about writing. For some unknown reason the other day, my friend Jean-Marc and I went to the Christmas Arts & Crafts show. It took place at Lansdowne Park. Basically, it's a compilation of maybe 300 booths, where people set up their life's work and show off their expertise. It's unfortunate that the prices are so high, although it makes sense. You're paying for the labour. It really limited what was affordable for us as students, though.
As a pretentious, 20-year-old know-it-all, I didn't expect much of the show as we drove over in JM's vintage tropical green 1994 Mercury Topaz. We walked in and I told myself I was right, as I passed a booth with candles, another with a variety of chocolates, one with some photography, etc. It got old very quickly. What a waste of time.
I looked over at my buddy, and knew he was thinking the same thing when we made eye contact. Then, I stopped, walked past him and found myself in a booth where everything was made from seat-belts: purses, laptop bags, backpacks, etc. I was slightly impressed. Then I ended up in another booth. It wasn't long before I was sitting on a chair made from a bicycle, with my feet on a table made from a bicycle, holding a glass made from a bicycle, and yes, a bottle opener made from the chain of a bicycle. All that was missing was a nice bottle of wine.
A young Caribbean man called me over to try his sauce. He argued that it was better than Frank's, so I had to do it. I told him to give me his spiciest stuff, but he wouldn't budge. "Island fire's not for you", he told me. So I started off with his original blend. As I swallowed the cracker, he continued to tell me about how he makes it, and the reason the flavour is so pure. During this time, I held back my tears and began to hiccup. He then described what I was feeling as I was feeling it. Spicy as hell. The man knew his sauce.
Before we knew it, it had almost been two hours. We were on our way out and we stopped by a woodworker's booth. JM picks up this small box and tries to open it, but he couldn't. The sign read "Mystery Box - Open it if you can." We tried everything for 15 minutes: slide, twist, tap, pull, push, squeeze. Not only that, the stubborn old man wouldn't tell us the secret. "Either you figure it out or you buy the box," he said. The only hint he would give us is "it opens smooth as silk."
Unfortunately, an $80 box is not part of my budget. Maybe I'll start saving though because I remain frustrated and curious to this day...
I think that's all I've got. Either that or I need more coffee, but I'm going to call it quits. I wonder if you read the whole thing. I don't see how this could possibly be enjoyable for you. I'm not even going to ever read it again. On the other hand, it is free.
Oh, by the way... maybe count: five.
1 comment:
I'm really curious as how to open that box too, and what it looks like...
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