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

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