Life in Evolution

A burst of flame, a fury of feathers. He emerges from the forest den with a look of determination. Running towards the cliff at high speed, the wary trees see only a streak of fire, as the blur of his red, orange, and yellow feathers trick the eye into seeing a lie. He is an anomoly in the sea of green, the colours of passion streaming behind him in the light mist. Running down the grassy path he has travelled so many times before, the chimera bursts out of the canopy onto a massive rock bluff overlooking the rest of the rainforest.

The bare stone sends shivers of cold into his feet and up his legs but the fire within pushes back this unwanted intrusion. The evening is warm and comfortable against his well-defined body and he wears only jeans - worn out ones at that. Nearing the drop ahead he briefly marvels at the magnificent sunset, a medley of colour that filters through the trees all around and gives them a translucent quality in the heavy air.

Xavier and Zana sit low in the sky, two planets he’d like to visit one day, with their earthy tones and the grand rings that encircle them. Time stands still for a moment…like a photograph of the mind the scene is magical in the least: the setting sun, the luminous planets, their moons, and the endless jungle below. At the end of the rock he jumps, wings and sunset like a single torch, and flies off into the coming night.

The view from above is like no other. Our friend never gets bored of watching the world from the skies, the stars beginning to twinkle above him. He smiles up at his ancestors, a constellation of stars shaped like a fierce lion’s face. The map says the temple is right up ahead past the pear shaped lake…and there it is! Sticking ever so slightly above the trees the ancient monument is rumoured to contain the mythical crystal of truth, a gem connected to every living person on this Earth of the Nexus solar system. Slowly descending down into the woods, wings flapping in long strokes, the angel-like man lands with a gentle crunch on the leaf strewn soil.

He moves quickly through the shadows towards a temple door entangled by vines. The symbol on his arm, that only he possesses, begins to glow with the light of the fireflies as the stone entrance slowly moves aside. He rushes inside - some sort of spy may have seen him falling into the forest, the brightly coloured wings kind of give him away. Water drips from the old stone walls of the dim interior and in the middle of the room on a pedestal lies the purple crystal that he had been so determined to find. Striding foward, he gingerly touches its surface to activate it. A flurry of images flashes before him - it seems like his entire life there before his eyes - and he falls backward to the ground, folded wings softening the blow. Has he died? Nope, but a little piece of everyone else has.

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normal, not normal. in the world of Rabanastre these two sides of one coin carry powerful consequences. the beings who live here are similar to humans, but a small minority of them are born with an ‘unnatural’ ability to move objects with their minds. normal vs. not normal. while those blessed with such a feature can do things no others can, they are looked upon with suspicion and misguided fear by the rest of the population. displaying their power in public is strongly discouraged and will garner many disgusted glares. as a result, many who have telekinesis hide it from their parents as it is seen as evil and wrong. Cliff is such a person.

walking along a trampled path through the jungle behind his house, Cliff gazes nonchalantly out in front of him, absorbing the tropical atmosphere. a motley of brightly coloured birds sing symphonies to fritter and waste the hours away, merrily flapping to and fro through the treetops. minute droplets of water dive, one after the other, off the broad leaves above and catapult into little pools on the forest floor. Cliff looks down at one of these puddles and watches the mesmerizing rings spread out from where the drops land, blurring the canopy above. it’s as if a whole other world is in that pool, a distorted fantasy that tightly holds your stare like a random hottie with a nice ass. shaking those sexy thoughts out, he feels the unpleasant sensation of a gigantic drop of water hitting the centre of his head, a shot of cold rushing across his scalp. giving his head a waggle, Cliff’s dirty blonde locks fly back and forth, mimicking the birds above.

moving on, he comes to a gorge on one side of the trail and its grand waterfall, a wide torrent of liquid that smoothly tumbles over a cliff and down to the serrated rocks below. the mists from the canyon moisten the already humid air and pieces of the sun’s rays reflect across the veil of water, shimmering and shattering until it appears that the water is no longer clear but a variety of lavender and crimson shades. seeing a large bead of fluid coming towards him, a stray from the waterfall, Cliff focuses on the incoming blob and makes it stop in mid-air right infront of his eyes. gazing into the rounded surface of the perfect droplet, he sees his family before him - happy and joyful - as they once were many years ago. playing tricks with me, he thinks, tossing it aside like he had done with so many others in his life.

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as I walk up the stairs at the top of marykirk, the landscape turns from civilization to forest. i needed to disappear into the woods for a while, i needed some nature. as i walk along the dim trail through towering firs and past moss that hangs off the branches like a scrotum in the summertime, the welcoming silence is shattered - as in the beginning of a battle in Final Fantasy X - by the screeches of kids up ahead. seymour happily saunters up to them as the three boys run towards him. all around friendliness. as their cries fade into the woods, the true wonder of the forest presents itself. it is alluringly quiet and the only noise comes from walking on the soft ground (a gentle crunch), and occasionally through a wetter area where a squish emerges. i love the randomness, nothing is ordered here, stuff grows wherever it wants, it is chaotic, it is natural.

enjoying the cushy sound of walking on a forest floor, i suddenly come to a wooden bridge that blissfully stops right in the middle of a mud puddle. way to go whoever built this. so we just walk off the end into the water. after finding a way around, the rush of the river begins to reach my ear bones. the shades of green are overwhelming, a full array of my favourite colour, mixed in with yellow and brown. and the forest is damp from the recent rain. the way it should be since it is a rainforest after all. coming up to a split in the trail, one way to hyannis, one toward my house, seymour leads the way to hyannis and i think: why not explore a bit? i remember a trail that way above the main one i want to find. crossing over the river, i feel refreshed, rejuvinated, just like sitting on a big rock on the ocean’s edge, looking over its glassy smooth water with the wind flowing past my face and thru my doggy’s hair.

we follow the river as the water flows down the valley bottom like it flows through every fibre of my body. we reach what i think is the trail i’m looking for. seymour continues on towards hyannis, but this time he’s got to follow me back on the upper trail towards home. as i continue on, i cycle between far off images of childhood journeys through here - recognizing certain parts of the trail - and asking the question: “Where the hell are we”? soon the sound of bike brakes squeal through the trees at the same time as i stumble across a bike bridge. up ahead we meet up with one of the bikers and her dog. she is friendly, like everyone else i meet in the woods, and i pick up the sense from these people that they have found something secret, something special. high without the drugs.

mo and I find a large boggy pond further on, it seems out of place as it is filled with old logs and many trees are growing right in it. moface cant resist a swim. around the corner i discover the skeleton of a majestic old tree. only the bottom half is left and it is hollow with the side facing us opened up. its a neat sight, too bad its in the middle of the pond. the yellow leaves look pretty reflecting off the water. strangely the forest is like the streets around my house. there is no wildlife anywhere, just as there were no people out when i walked up to the woods (on a saturday too). is a forest really a forest without its animals? is a city really a city without its people out and about?

after all, the woods are an everlasting enigma, and i am their eager explorer.

I offer apologies for not writing a personal post in a while. I have been rendered incapacitated by grass allergies ever since the sun made it’s first summer appearance on Wednesday and the Vancouver region burst to life. Luckily, Claritin worked it’s Harry Potter charm yesterday and I was able to go on a long walk by Pitt Lake around the Wildlife and Marsh Reserve to drench myself in the sunlight I had been so longing for - like a desert rose misses the rain.

My sister and I are branching out from our usual epic hike locations in Howe Sound. Neither of us have explored Coquitlam that much, so we figured a jaunt over to that quadrant was warranted. As we drove the Mary Hill Bypass for the first time, it looked like summer, smelled like summer and felt like summer. It had been so long I had forgotten her breezy touch. Blueberry farms wisked past, their fruits ripening behind schedule, not yet ready for our tongues that craved some ’Grown in Canada’ goodness. When we arrived we took in the wonder of Pitt Lake, cradled by lush mountains, sparkling aqua sapphires on the lip of every ripple and wave. A sight to behold.

As soon as we began our walk - the lake with wooden posts topped by bald eagle nests and their babies on our left, and a pond covered in flowering lilies on our right - we spotted a beaver swimming blithely along the surface. Turning a corner to go deeper into the marsh, frogs of different sizes began hopping into the water as they saw us walk by up on the dike, their distinctive splashes and - I kid you not - screams of irriation alerting us to their presence. Only some of them yelped, but it scared the crap out of me. Lazy Canada geese waddled out of our way and into the water, their young following behind and squeaking inquisitively.

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Wow. This is embarassing. I’ve decided that I’m finally okay with linking people I know to the two epic stories I wrote in my early twenties. These are the most comprehensive things I have ever written, and after they were completed, I pretty much stopped writing, until this year with my new blog, as they took a lot out of me and I felt like I didn’t get anything in return. They are fan fictions focused on the pairing of Cliff Fittir and Fayt Leingod from the video game Star Ocean: Till the End of Time, produced by Square Enix. The game takes place in the future. You don’t need to know the game to enjoy the writing, the characters are just too good ;). The second tale even includes Han and Luke from Star Wars as I thought they were cute together at the time HAHA.

The stories are quite lighthearted and silly, but then I’ll get all serious in some chapters! LOL. I was pretty mood-swingy back then. I really experimented with descriptive writing and imagery tho! The only problem is it looks like FanFiction.net has removed the page breaks I used to separate scenes in each chapter. Keep that in mind when you’re reading if it seems like the next paragraph doesn’t flow from the previous, there was probably a line break there.

I have not told anyone I know about these stories I wrote - they have been entirely secret. Mostly because they are classified as ‘slash’ or ‘yaoi’, aka they have a man-on-man love story in them, mixed in with all the adventures :D. And I guess I wasn’t comfortable sharing such things when I wasn’t even comfortable with myself. So without further ado, I present to you:

 
A Love on the Sidelines by William Leon B.

Dual Desire by William Leon B.

 
(Please don’t laugh at me too much…;P)

(I also noticed that FanFiction.net removed the links to the steamy NC-17 scenes in some of the chapters. When you are prompted in the stories, you will have to go to this link on my old blog to read the uncensored version of the chapter you are on - just click the Previous Day button to find the right chapter.) 

They dare dream of the devil, painting this city in broad red brush strokes. We walk, we drive, we skytrain, seeing faces that are quintessentially blank to their core - unresponsive to stimuli, their souls saddled and sick with fiat cash. We are nothing to them, merely a mosquito irriation as they stagger about their sorry video game lives. Their hearts bleed openly through their chests, staining their overpriced clothing for all the lessers to see. Fear not, for they are dying a slow and painful death as cancerous blight ravages their spirits and hollows their eyes. Care not about others, is their mantra. They don’t even see you anymore, even though you are right in front of them. We are objects, unbreathing, and they dance through the streets sprinkling the scarlet poison from their black, black hearts. Fallen angels, we strike you down - even though you may be winning at this moment in time, in the end it is us, not you, that always wins the war.

As I sat alone waiting in the first row of side-by-side chairs in the UK border agency office at 666 Burrard Street, I couldn’t help but notice it kind of felt like waiting for bad news at a doctor’s appointment. Or maybe I just hadn’t had to wait like that in a stark, unfamiliar office for that long since the last family emergency and suppressed memories were floating back. Either way, I was nervous and worrying that… MAYBE I WAS IN THE WRONG PLACE AND IT’S ANOTHER OFFICE DOWN THE HALL AND I’M GOING TO MISS MY APPOINTMENT AND MY VISA IS GOING TO BE DELAYED AND ALL MY PLANS WILL GO TO SHIT.

Luckily, I was in the right place, they were just running behind schedule for my biometrics appointment. A few other young travel-y looking people finally start wandering in and I’m secretly hoping that OH GOD they don’t take the seat beside me when there are tons available behind me…unless it’s a hot dude of course. Fuck, 4 of them don’t, but then a girl wanders in and sits beside me. I try rather unsuccessfully to pretend that she’s not there and in my personal space. Dammit, no one is responding to my texts, I’ll have to lean forward and try to look cool so none of these strangers find out i’m secretly a loser.

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Above the tiring rumble of the cars and trucks on the Sea to Sky, across the plentiful valleys where dinosaurs once roamed, lays a lake, hidden away in the mountains. We hiked there on Friday, the one day we were promised sunshine. Although the drive was beautiful and breathless, clouds rolled in like unwanted in-laws as we set off up the trail from the highway. We literally saw only two other people on the whole 12 km, 650 metre elevation gain of the hike. It was just us, the wise old trees, the spiders and their surreptitious webs across the trail, and the spongy mushroom-smelling forest earth.

Quiznos bag in hand, we scrambled up this Squamish mountain not seeing a single animal the whole time, not even a squirrel. I guess it just isn’t the same when it’s a second growth forest, those things don’t really come back - there is no Princess Mononoke to bring life back to this barren land. Petgill Lake is a cute little lake, tucked away in the trees in the middle of nowhere. We discovered a breathtaking viewpoint five minutes from the lake as well, looking out over picturesque Howe Sound.

As we headed back down the trail, my sister was talking away and I was focused on her rather than where I was placing my feet. Suddenly, I stepped onto a patch of slick mud and slid right forward, almost underneath her, and landed unceremoniously on my butt. When I regained verticality, I realized there was a huge brown spot on my green shorts and my sister wouldn’t stop laughing. How it did echo.

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The week that is laid around us like a wreath of hibiscus blossoms has been going wonderful so far. Deliverance from the paradise of Hawaii has not been as worrysome as I imagined - life is an innocent baby panther, not it’s aggressive father I thought it was. I’ve been struggling up this hill for too long, with that weighty boulder covered in moss on my back, and tossing that aside has awakened something in me that has been in a deep slumber for oh so long. As I stretch towards the grey and clouded sky of doom, revelling in my newfound freedom, I find that those things just don’t matter anymore. Outside is outside, I can’t change much about it. Inside on the other hand, is where true happiness begins on it’s sun-laden trek to quintessence.

There seems to be no way around it, full-time work drains one’s soul, although this is a necessary draining and one I will soon return to. What’s important is to lighten the load with passions, and also to take a proper break once in a while, to clear one’s mind of cobwebs and allow the perfect clarity of the ocean through to achive clairvoyance. I am my own man, I have realized that, and I don’t care to mold myself to this flawed and sinking society anymore. Tough shit if you don’t like me how I am. It’s time to live how I want, not how others think, I am strong as one, and that is nothing to be ashamed or anxious about. I want to live more like my father, who seized everyday as if it was his last. I refuse to waste away. I would die young and happy, rather than old and atrophied.

Balance is ever important though. Never become too radical, unless it comes to politics ;).

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As my plane took off from YVR, this strange feeling came over me. Maybe I’m just drunk from freedom, maybe I can think clearer now. I marvelled at the wonder of flight and what humanity has accomplished so far. We have replicated the gift of flying that was given to birds, and we take it for granted. Hawaii is calling…

The airport was a breeze, never seen the lines so short. The flight was super pleasant and the attendants very good. I watched Chronicle and John Carter with earphones she didn’t charge me for, but was supposed to. It was also nice that I had a window seat and no one was sitting beside me.

Almost 6 hours later we descended through a city of broken clouds, rising like a tropical kingdom to the heavens. I had flown back in time. As I walked off the plane into the glorious heat, a driver from the shuttle service greeted me and placed a necklace of shells over my head. Amazing.

The sights of Waikiki after dark flew past my window, glittering lights and swaying palms. The music was relaxing and laid back. I felt like this was my home, I belonged here in this lifestyle. I arrived at the hotel, the lobby open to outside, and checked out my room. It’s an older hotel, but it has charm and everything I could need. I opened the sliding door and let the balmy evening ocean air sweep into the room.

This morning, I woke up, excited. I rubbed the sleepy sands from my eyes and drew the curtains and gasped. Paradise! Looking straight out at the ocean, the rainbow of cerulean blues and the plethora of palms. The zoo to my left. I was speechless.

My last day at work went by like a video cassette on fast foward. Hoping for a nice relaxing final day, it was so busy I didn’t have time for a break to walk out into the sun. Things needed to be finished, Tessitura trains set on the right track. It would be so easy not to care, but I’m not that kind of person. I finished everything just on time, at 4pm, for my goodbye party with my department. I opted for a smaller farewell gathering, because as much as I love everyone at my work, it’s just not as fun or intimate as when it’s just my team, and that’s exactly what I needed.

I managed not to shed tears. It was a lovely little celebration, with food I love and drinks I love, and everyone was in a good mood. My boss gave me a little speech and I’ll admit there was a notion of the ocean washing across my eyes. Another co-worker wrote me a poem and read it aloud, I was so touched and tried not jitter too much from the spotlight being on me. Much laughter and rum laced mockery followed, to my delight. Traditions were followed, thankfully, and I received a card signed by the whole office and this amazing glass spinning sphere with a musical note inside it. (Almost) Perfect. Sadly, we were missing one person, but I know he was there in spirit, critiquing the poem reading.

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With less than 2 weeks to go until my last day on the job, here I stand. Loving the newfound sunshine in Vancouver, and savouring the first epic hike of the season I did on Saturday. It is called High Falls Creek, up in the Squamish Valley, an hour and half from the City. I love driving the Sea to Sky Highway on a day that radiates perfection, practicing my high speed turns. After a 40 minute ‘warmup’, walking down the gravel road in the wrong direction beside the River under a canopy of dirt fresh leaves, we finally find the trailhead and start the hike. The circle of us being directionally challenged is complete when my youngest sister tries to take us the wrong way once again, thinking going to the right is too steep and can’t be the right way. That is the way. Little pieces of cheese stick that I’m munching on are shooting out the sides of my mouth I’m laughing so hard.

Whoever built this trail, was a rock climber, and not afraid of heights. Whenever I think the trail is going to take a safe route away from the edge of the canyon into the creek, I am wrong. I don’t have an issue with riskiness, but other people aren’t so careful. Once we reach the top of the gigantic falls, there is a ledge above it by a pool that shoots mist up at you. It’s just amazing, feels like an outdoor air conditioner, because it is HOT out. I stand there with my arms out. My other sister is worrying like a wart because we’re ‘too close to the edge’. I’m wondering if it wasn’t the best idea to do a big hike after soccer practice the evening before. Later on, we cross through a small but hillly clear cut, and I try to grab onto something to steady my climbing, but it seems everything has thorns on it. I love that feeling.

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Personally, the worst kind of stress, the kind that sinks to my soul, is the kind relating to balancing competing social obligations. I saw the potential disaster this past weekend could have been from early on in the week as my stress level skyrocketed. And yet I let it happen, like I was so mesmerized at the sight of two trains about to collide that I didn’t think of doing anything about it. I could have just hit the brakes, but I was either too optimistic (I’M A [WO]MAN, I CAN HAVE IT ALL!) or too tired…or both.

There are just not enough hours in a weekend. One, I need to recover from the the work week, which leaves me exhausted and deflated like an old balloon by Friday evening, and two, there are these people who LIKE me and who demand to hang out with me! THE NERVE. To top it off, I had to work on Saturday from 8:30am to 1:30pm to run an appreciation event for donors that I co-organize. The only thing getting me through it was the thought that “This is the last one, this is the last one”. Running on empty, I zig zagged around the Orpheum like a zombie in my own little world, trying to make everything run smoothly. Let’s just say I haven’t felt completely there, recently. Thankfully, everything went smoothly - except that my stress level kept rising like the Burrard Inlet tides, and I felt like I was soon going to be drowning under this sea of salt and sewage from the treatment plant under Lions Gate.

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When the briny breezes blow through my dark chocolate hair and tease across my face, it is the greatest feeling in the world. I am standing on the outside deck at the front of the ferry with my family - mother and father, and two sisters. We are young. The sun is shining unadultered happiness onto our skin. It’s summer. My mother is full of life, my father is trying to hide a permanent grin. My sisters are gripping the railing like they are the royalty of the world. We are on our way to paradise.

It’s some lazy day in August - the month of dreams fulfilled. I’m torn awake from this wet, sloppy feeling on the side of my face. It’s my dog, Seymour. We have grown up together, side by side as brothers. And now…he is licking my face, like my cheek is covered in a glob of luscious peanut butter. Not madly, but gently, savouring it. I do not normally like him, or any dog for that matter, licking me. I make some sort of animal noise and push him away, the curtains of sleep not yet fully drawn. I hear my mother laugh heartily in the kitchen outside my bedroom and she guides Seymour back outdoors again.

The savoury smell of bacon and sausages lulls me out of my comfy nighttime cloud and I head into the living room for a breakfast of champions. Which it seems like we have every day while in this mysterious place. My nose is running again, on a tiring marathon racing for team Pollen. Grab some more Kleenex, using it in between forkfuls of food as my sisters giggle and my dad teases, and then time for the nosespray - a wizard of sorts that decides sometimes to work, and sometimes to sloth. I’m dying to get outside, even though al fresco is no stranger to me while here.

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I expected to feel relief. Instead I was sideswiped by an innocent jab from my boss. No, keep the past out of this. For just one day let me roam free of your shackles. Yes, I admit, I am a dreamer.

I decided last week to quit my comfy job of 3 and a half years, and I set today as the date in the crosshairs. I have been here too long - overstayed my welcome and haunted by the nagging voices of boredom drifting out of empty rooms. Even after I was given a shocking, but appreciated, 10 percent raise in October, I heard the voice in the back of my head saying I wouldn’t be around long to enjoy it. I’ve never been into fundraising, but that was where I unceremoniously ended after university. My current job was always going to be a stepping stone in my career of becoming…what? The word forever chafes on my skin, like new cleats on lazy feet. In the past year I’ve found myself in a place I do not recognize, literally lost, looking all around me for the right direction.

I have been slowly awakening from a winter hiberation, one of mind not of body. As a child of the sun, Vancouver winters are becoming more and more difficult for me. A hometown should never be a sentence. It’s no coincidence that at the same time the weather is also changing from when I was young: the temperature evening out, winter snow disappearing, clouds taking their rightful place and refusing to move except for a few treasured weeks during the summer. The city (Cloud City) is reverting back to rainforest, how it once was, untouched and pristine. While I, am trickling, towards…crazy.

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