My Memory Is A Litte Foggy

Eerily beautiful

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I spent my eve at what I thought might have been the first Christmas party of the season. It was, in fact, not a Christmas party. It was, however, a party to celebrate my friend Patrick’s recent completion of an intense body building challenge. That challenge transformed him from someone who most of us would envy because he was in such great shape, to someone who most of us would want to punch because he’s now even more in shape.

Oh – maybe it’s just me who wants to punch him.

Ha! I kid. I’m super proud of him. The challenge couldn’t have been easy, but he stuck to it and was able to cross something amazing off of his Bucket List.

Anyway, the party was a blast even though I felt it when I woke up this morning. I’m going to assume I was just extra dehydrated before I dipped into the celebratory juice1 because I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have felt as bad as I did. Fortunately, a hot shower and a cup of coffee had me feeling like a million bucks. And good thing too, as I spent part of my day on campus (as described at my Professorly Blog here).

After last night’s festivities wound down, I opted to walk home. I don’t live far from Patrick, so the 15 or 20 minutes required to get home seemed like an easy chore. Also, I figured the fresh air would do me good. After walking for a few minutes I realized that it was the correct decision. A fog had fallen over Guelph that was truly beautiful. Eerie, but beautiful.

I’m not sure what it is about fog, but it always creates a mixed-emotions type of response in me.

Look closely – you can almost see the fog planning to get me.

On one side of the coin, I’m always captivated by the beauty of fog, especially given the contrast of light and shadows. I am fascinated how the light travels through the fog, how it is cut by trees and people and cars and such, and how I’m able to see the beams of light radiating from their source; as if the fog purposefully draws each and every ray of light. It paints the world in monochromatic colours. It makes the typically recognized often unrecognizable and sometimes scary, but it also highlights the beauty in everyday things that I might take for granted.

On the flip-side, I’m always reminded of the movie The Fog2 that I saw when I was younger. Since seeing that movie I’ve always imagined that there is something ominous in the fog. It’s not so much that I imagine a creature lives in it, but that the fog itself is evil, and with every breath it insidiously permeates my cells, consuming all there was, is, and ever will be of me. All I know, when my brain finds itself mired in these thoughts, is that the fog is not good for the part of me that doesn’t want to die a horrible, painful, scream-filled, blood-curdling death3.

Dramatic, no?

1 Read beer.

2 For obvious reasons.

3 Possibly after the alien abduction which also seems to only happen on foggy nights.


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