Restless Heart Syndrome

"Electric Campfires"

It so happens I’m tired of lingering darkness,

Of the brazen anthems that drag me into consciousness,

Of the half-hearted sprinkle that precariously secures me there.

I’m tired of lukewarm milk and dusty toast,

Of the yellowed spatula and crusty dishcloth.

I’m tired of the obstinate climate and its insistence on cold.

I want an intimate relationship with the sun.

I want electric campfires, and gently pulled hair.

I want sparkling spray, leaping from green lake water.

I want summer back.

I wrote that poem for a creative writing class in the darkest depths of January 2010. I was absolutely sick and tired of waking up at 6am into pitch blackness, getting some food into me, and going off to try and survive the day at Grant MacEwan. I was tired of my room, my commute, my classes, my cooking, and my neighborhood.

It wasn't that I hated school, and the life structure it demanded. I actually liked it, and enjoyed it a lot, for a time. But I got tired of it. Maybe it was the winter blues, maybe it was boredom, probably a combination of both plus other things too. I think the perfect word to describe what happened was that I got restless. I desperately needed to shake things up, make some changes to break up the monotony. The upcoming summer at home seemed the perfect respite, and it was once it finally arrived.

But after a time of summer, I got restless again. I was sick and tired of my job that I'd at least modestly enjoyed for the previous few months. I was tired of my family, my house, my coworkers, and my town. Just like school, I like all of these things a lot. But I'd settled into a routine and I couldn't wait to get away to King's in the fall.

Predictably, it's happened again. I'm tired of winter at King's. I'm tired of my residence, my roommate, my classes, my cafeteria diet, even the campus itself. Again, I like these things a lot, probably more than their home or MacEwan counterparts. But I'm restless, and I need to shake things up again. I need to break up my routine, so badly. The slowly lengthening days tease me with their promise of electric campfires and gently pulled hair, of sparkling spray leaping from green lake water.