January 22, 2001

A New Beginning Freedom

Opinion

The beginning of a new year brings cleansing Surrounds Us

Waking up hungover and
dehydrated. Peeling my face
off the leather couch that cra-
dled me as | slept. Take a look
around. Shane is surveying
the damage, it looks pretty
bad but looks can be deceiv-
ing. No matter what the extent
of the mess, | waste no time
in leaving. Issuing a few gar-
bled condolences and slur-
ring my good-bye | make
haste through the door,
behind me Shane mumbles
something back, probably to
the same effect.

| hit the road feeling surpris-
ingly good. This is no ordinary
hangover, no headaches, no
nausea, nothing but the feel-
ing of having been welded
into a lead suit. A Chinook is
blowing, as it would seem to
do every year at this time.
This snow is melting and
aside from the dirty,
omnipresent slush, a feeling
of renewal floats over this
time and place. As | travel
through this hypersensitive
surreality, information is com-
ing at me faster than my
senses can grasp it. The defi-

nition of the trees against the
sky, the sounds of the birds
and the cars, everything is
enhanced as it experiencing it
for the first time.

With such contemplation
flowing so freely, analysis of
my condition is inevitable. The
pollutants and indulgences of
the night before must be a
vital part of the cleansing
process. Drown everything in
booze until it is dissolved, in
the morning rinse with a
warm, warm wind. The true
path to complete and total
absolution.

Coming over a hill and into
the barren ground of the
Calgary Stampede, | savor
the sweet simplicity of and ice
cream sandwich that | bought
at the Seven-Eleven. It’s fan-
tastic, the flavor and texture,
the clod, everything as a nov-
elty.

Maybe I’m making too much
of this. I’m obviously still
messed up from last night; it
would take only one glance at
my shuffling progression to
know so. Upon closer inspec-
tion one would note my slack

jawed expression, perhaps
the fact that I’m drooling like
and infant. The stream of spit-
tle running off my chin is
unimportant, as is everything
in the fantasy. Ice-cream
sandwiches and over active
salivation are all irrelevant,
this is my redemption.
Arriving home | have a hot
shower, it washes away the
collected grime of the previ-
ous night. The water only fin-
ishes what started with a full
bottle. | am clean. Though it
could not possibly be, every-
thing feels good, everything
feels right. | am fortunate, in
that relating this to you I’ve
escaped a brutal truth. For
now I’ve evaded the melan-
choly that comes in knowing
the cleanliness will last but
one day, this January first
2001.

Someday's | can feel the
weight of infinite imaginary
pressures. The need to be a
certain way, to achieve spe-
cific goals. Transforming the
air surrounding me to a thick
and claustrophobic sub-
stance. | sometimes forget
the reality of freedom. Loose
sight of the fact that | am here
because | want to be, that |
live a life that | have chosen.
This is not to say | don’ t
believe in fate, many turns in
our lives have been altered
by circumstance, but ulti-
mately our future is formed
by how we deal with and
react to circumstance. How
we create circumstance. You
can have two people, in exact
situations, and individually
they will experience different
levels of happiness. | believe
that happiness is a reflection
of how we see the world, the
way we prioritize and what
we deem important. All of
these are created from within
ourselves, not in the environ-
ment that surrounds us. We
have to remember that we
only feel commitment
because we chose to. We
only go to school, go to work,

go out with friends, because
we have chosen to. At any
moment we could walk away
from the life we are living if
we simply decided to. So
don’t be afraid to try new
things, act compulsively, or
express yourself. Don’t let
school stop you from travel-
ling next year, or that car loan
stop you from quitting that job
you’ve hated for so many
years. Don't let the fear of
the unknown stop you from
moving to a different city, or
prevent you from trying
something new. Life is not on
a set timeline, and is not
measured by the things that
have been acquired through
out it. Opportunity is in sur-
plus if you just open your
eyes and your mind. Life is
about experience, and get-
ting the most out of every sit-
uation. It is about living for
the moment, enjoying the
good times and making the
best of the worst. Its about
realizing that fate can be held
in your hands, everything is
your choice, freedom sur-
rounds us.

By Jaden Hunter

12 Hours: Williams Lake Incident

by Lorenzo Sia

Williams Lake, a beauty of
interior British Columbia, and
a sight to behold the eye. The
city hugging along the rim of
the lake, surrounded by
mountains in all directions.
Serenity and scenery ll
around; quiet and still. But of
course, all was quiet and still
at night, and even while
perched above with an omni-
scient view of the city below,
nothing could be seen. It was
about nine o’clock at night
and all that was visible was
the city lights and a flurry of
vehicles that sped along the
Cariboo Highway.

Our coach made a dinner
stop at Williams Lake. The
coach depot was located ona
rocky perch just off the high-
way. From the other side of
the building, one could look
down and see the large metal
domes and burners, the signs
and symbols of industry.
Pondering the night sky, |
looked down and saw the
body of water with lights
delimiting the edge of the
lake. My stomach began to
ache and so | took a deep
breath and went inside the
depot. The depot was packed
with passengers. There were
other coaches that made a
stop at the Williams Lake
depot. Two were on their way

to Prince George but originat-
ed from different points.

| took a deep breath and
inhaled the air of the depot.
All the smells of the room
filled my sinuses. Grease and
ground beef patties were
being cooked on the stove-
top. The grease and by-prod-
uct was oozing from the
meais as the oil dripped off
the stovetop and into a
groove. French fries were
being deep-fried in another
apparatus beside the stove-
top. People fell in line beside
the trays and arrays of food
waiting to pay for their meal to

‘the cashier. As this was hap-

pening, a cook would yell out

the number of an order and
shortly after, a passenger
would feebly go to the cook
with a ticket. The ticket was
presented and food was
served.

The passengers in the line for
the cashier looked tired and
weary eyed. It was a strange
and interesting sight. The first
thought that came to mind
was that | thought of myself in
a refugee war camp. This pic-
ture ran | my head when my
train of thought was interrupt-
ed when a fellow passenger
came up to me an asked “Are
you going to get something to
eat?”

It was none other than a fel-
low passenger and UNBC
Business Administration
Major, Rob Beischer. During
the trip down from Prince
George, Beischer sat in the
row ahead of me. Throughout
most of the trip, Beischer and
| had long talks about the
Vedder River and the Vedder
Canal. Most of our conversa-
tions talked of the strange
incidence of how the
Chilliwack Lake flowed into
the Vedder River, and then
into the Vedder Canal, and
then into the Fraser River.
There was many a debate as
to the flow of the river and

(continued on page 4)