Of Soaring Birds and Cries of War

11am…seven hours of sleep.

Overlay interference as usual, and the incessant problem of me having more energy in the peaceful silence of the night.

Rest. It’s after 4am. I want to sleep, and you need to calm yourself now.

But I like listening to the sound of your voice, Muse. Read to me the words of the Bard, I want to hear every inflection, every subtle change in tone, the nuances that colour the fundamental sound of you. Timbre. Pitch. Projection. Hearing these ebb and flow, surge and fall as each character finds expression. As each character is interpreted, as masks come on and off again and again with every breath you draw, every burst of air expelled from deep within.

Acting persona … it runs deeper than wearing a character or reciting lines. You use the term ‘persona’ too lightly.

How can I respond? I throw all the Jung I can in your face, citations and research, theory and hints of literature.

Don’t underestimate me. I notice far more than I’m willing to say.

I stare at your wall, two sections are covered by awards and certificates of honour roll status. One in particular spikes my inner competitive beast – Ontario Scholar. I nearly growl at the sight of it hanging so proudly there.

Wisdom is not earned from books. Wisdom comes from life experiences.

Aah, how amusing it must be to watch the Wheel turn. The teacher has become the student, and the student is now the teacher. I turn my eyes and catch the sight of all your University of Waterloo swag, the water bottle, the lanyard, all of it down to the careful expression on your face bearing just a hint of pride in the photograph of your student identification card. My ID card for Wilfrid Laurier University just shows annoyance at my picture being taken.

I grumble. There’s no point in beating around the bush. I’m in enemy territory. A Laurier girl in the chambers of a UW man. I see the smirk in those amber eyes. Don’t make me issue a declaration of war. I’mma fight you.

What’s the matter, Golden Hawk? Do the Warriors work and play too hard for you?

…how did this entry turn into campus banter? My school takes up two city blocks. Yours has buses running through it. CITY BUSES INSIDE YOUR CAMPUS. What the hell. I can’t make heads or tails of the sheer size of UW.

I’d like to give you a tour.

Mmph, I bet that would take an entire day. Your school is too damn big, and yet none of you walk around glued to a map. My brain broke when you guided me and Chizuru to the acappella concert. When I sat on the bricks lining a flower garden nestled beneath the spreading branches of a majestic tree. When I felt the wind soothe me in the open space between walls of buildings. All the graces of nature still present in an academic world, the ancient still interacting with innovation.

Really now. The Seminary is the closest I can get to this in my domain.

…awww hell. Time to wrap this up.

Hey, off the computer and into the shower with you. Go on.

Meh. Fight me!

Are you sure?

I glare at you, and you simply smile. Sigh. Fine. I’m going, but not before I stick my tongue out at you. If Chizuru were here, she’d give you her middle finger. And yet despite the teasing between our quartet, two of Laurier versus two of UW, we four are bonded so tightly through card games, our majors, and the overlay.