Skip to main content

departure

Last Friday, UBC Improv had their last show of the year. I have been to UBCi shows since first year and witnessed the audience size of their performances grow into a steady crowd even during midterm and final periods. They are definitely the funniest bunch I have ever seen in improv; their charisma trumps even the professional improv groups I been to.

At the end of the performance, the new co-presidents introduce themselves and call upon graduating members to step forward. As the audience burst into a thunder of applause to congratulate them and thank them for their amazing performances, I can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia rush through. I am somewhat jealous of the place these graduates are in. Not only are they reaching the finish line of their degrees, they are celebrated by their peers and embraced by teammates from a group of amazing individuals. I am jealous that they seem to belong to a group that have always worked so well together, and will have such life long memories to this place.

I am a nostalgic person and I blog about that feeling a lot. I am nostalgic because it keeps me safe. It gives me this feeling that no matter what happens in the future, I can always look back to the past and find solace in memories. This year I need to constantly remind myself that I have been through tougher times and I know I can make it to the end. It has a been rough start to the year in terms of my trying to grasp my own abilities and interests, and the things that keep me moving are my old exams, transcripts, stories, letters... that remind me of what a fighter I have been - raised and trained to be.

As the curtains close on UBC Improv, my term is also approaching its final period. I am going to miss spending friday nights at UBC laughing at a group of sassy guys who aren't afraid to make fun of themselves. They knock themselves over and grab and ride each other, de stressing a crowd of strung out UBC students while looking like they are having tons of fun. Oh how great it is to have fun doing your thing. It makes me wonder when I leave this place, will I have the same memories to carry with me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Painted Door - Sinclair Ross (from personal journal)

(Originally posted on 10/1/2009) ( Footsteps in snow. S orry, can't find the photo taken by Wayne R. Bilenduke that was printed in my book. Alternative photo.) I think this is by far the story I have to spend the longest time reading. Mr. Guraliuk was right, this is a very sleep-inducing "short" story. "It goes on and on and on and on… like forever". But, paradoxically, that's what makes it such a brilliant short story. When you read Sinclair Ross's lines, you feel cold. You can imagine the coldness of hard window glass pressing against your fingers as you look out to the freezing white snow-covered endless landscape and long for the person you love to arrive. You can feel your eyelids heavy as you watch the time go by; your heart heavy with sadness and loneliness but still not letting go of that weak hope, the only hope that keeps you still alive amidst the brutal coldness of winter. Of course if you've never been through a cold, white and l...

man and his bike

The bike laid next to a "Bike Vancouver" bike rack quietly and stubbornly. Her skeleton was black and a small pink Kryptonite held her close to the rack. She was brutally minimalistic. Without a kickstand, she's leaning against the small steel structure, resting her entire weight, light but sturdy, on the support. I took a step closer and realize she's without brakes. I frowned, and the bike simply stared back defiantly. With a skinny Brooks saddle, placed rather high up compared to the handlebars, I knew the owner was a savvy hardcore biker. In between the spokes, a picture of a woman - perhaps an actress or singer from the 70s that I couldn't recognize - was nicely placed, but precariously. What is the rider trying to say about himself? He also is riding without lights or a rack. No stickers, no colours, no visible brand name. You'd think he's a humble and low-key personality, but the small touches of customization makes me feel he's trying to say s...

so yesterday

If it's over, let it go and Come tomorrow it will seem So yesterday, so yesterday  - Hilary Duff Such a bittersweet teenage song. I remember the days I was still lipsyncing to Hilary Duff in my bedroom in Vietnam. I was 13 or 14 then, fantasizing I was a Disney star. So yesterday. As a teenager, I found it hard to understand how I felt about many things. Reading back some of my diary pages, I sounded over-sentimental, whiny, hyper, unstable, confused. Perhaps when I am 30 I will think of myself now the same way. But growing up, particularly for me, the biggest challenge was saying goodbye to the things I am used to. I had to learn how to embrace things as they last and not cry when they were over. Saying goodbye isn't easy, and moving in life isn't a breeze. This summer I felt this odd sensation of wanting time to stop, but at the same time wishing it would past faster. For a good chunk of this year I doubted myself in everything, and pushing myself to move on fr...