As I write this post, me and my dad are on our way to Yarmouth; a town on the Eastern coast of Nova Scotia, Canada. From there we will catch our boat ride on The CAT back to Portland, Maine in the good ol’ USA. It’s going to be a long trip back home to Scituate, but I think we’ll make it. At least I hope we do.

While here in Halifax, in Nova Scotia, I noticed how friendly the people of Canada are. When you cross the street cars actually STOP, unlike in Boston where they’ll try and run you over. Heck, I didn’t even see one single person j-walking except one couple. But they were from England (you could tell by their accents. They were also stating at the same hotel as me & my dad).

A cool thing I noticed about the towns here in Nova Scotia is a lot of them have the same names as towns in Massachusetts. Bridgewater, Yarmouth, Halifax; the list goes on. No doubt that like the towns in Red Sox state, the ones in Nova Scotia were named after towns in England. But it really makes me feel like I’m at home. Me and my dad even ate at a pizza place called Boston Pizza, which was so cool. We didn’t find out why it was called Boston Pizza though. Our guess is maybe the owners were from Boston. But who knows (not us)?

We had a great time in Canada, and I wish we didn’t have to leave, but we have to go home eventually. And school starts soon for me too. So goodbye Canada, it was fun. Eh?

I write this blog post to you all from aboard The Cat, one of the worlds superships as we leave Bar Harbor, Maine, United States heading to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada.

Things got a little hectic getting here, as we constantly messed up with directions and understanding the schedule of The Cat. First we messed up with when The Cat left Yarmouth. So instead of leaving from Bar Harbor and then coming back to it, we will leave for Portland, Maine on Friday. We didn’t plan on taking the car, but going back to Portland forced us to, shelling out $600 for the car and us. But we’re here on The Cat now and that’s all that matters.

We’ve been planning out Nova Scotia for a year now. Although when we left home yesturday it was a sper of the moment thing, Nova Scotia has been in our minds for a while. Since our trip to Toronto, Canada two years ago, the Maple leaf country had fascinated us. And it keeps on surprising us with culture and beauty.

Me and my dad are complete opposites. He likes to take new things on nice and slow with caution, while I like to take new things on with excitement and little caution. He always minds the consequences, I don’t. He’s a runner, I’m a biker. He likes the color blue, I like green. He sees life as something you have to be careful with, I see it as something that you can do whatever the hell you want with.

And with being opposites comes the trouble of not getting along. We often argue with each other when doing the funnest things. Whenever we go kayaking together he doesn’t want to go down that narrow canal, but I do. I want to stop on that small island and walk on it in the middle of the ocean, but he doesn’t. Often we can both turn the funnest activities into the most horrible. Though the one thing we often do together without arguing is playing a good game of chess, though we haven’t done that in a while.

My dad has more of cautious attitude towards life. At first, I never understood why he was so afraid of taking risks, but then he explained it to me.

He grew up in the Jamaica Plain section of Boston. It wasn’t a rough part of Boston, but it wasn’t the safest either. He told me how he got this cautious attitude from his mother. His mother had to watch over nine children, and constantly had to know where each one was, who they were with, and what they were doing. She was the one who always proceeded with caution. So thus growing up with that kind of mother (he never told me about his father’s personality), the traits passed on to my father. He took those cautious and careful feelings.

And then you look at how I’m growing up. Small seaside town with little crime, middle class family, a little brat sister, and two loving parents.  Much less frightening than how my father grew up, in a much more peaceful place. And I love the town I’m growing up in.

Six years ago you would find me with my elbows on my bed with my hands clapped together, speaking outloud. I was praying.

When I was a child I’d pray everyday to God. My family was (and still is) barely religious. We didn’t go to church, we didn’t have a cross hanging anywhere in the house, and we didn’t say grace. Yet I still prayed. Why, I don’t know.

Fast toward the clock back to present time and you don’t find me doing that anymore. Why? Because I’ve lost faith. I believe God exhists, but I’ve lost faith that he cares about me. Until this week.

This week I had a near death experience. Me and two friends were standing on a treefort. We all stood in the corner, forcing the fort to collapse, sending us falling down 10 feet. Another friend was under the fort as it fell, but it barely missed his head as the fort fell slanted at an angel. There were nails sticking out of the treeforts wood everywhere, none piercing any of us. God was watching over us. He was watching over me.

Finally I began to actually look at the cross in my room. Finally I began to pray. Finally I had faith.

Religion is believing in what we can’t see and don’t understand. I understood that the lack of evidence was a test of faith. I had to renew my religion in God. I had to believe he was there despite not knowing if he was or not. That’s what beiliving is. I regret loosing faith.

I’ve had a few blogs here and there in the past, but none with WordPress, and certainly none for the purpose of sharing my literature, music, artwork, photography, and short film.

I’ve always been an artist at heart. My mother tells me often how I have a good eye for art, but just don’t like to show it much. My parents compliment me on my wonderful drawings and my ingenuous songs. I even remember when in eigth grade I was nominated for “most musical” and “most artistic” for my schools yearbook electives.

I think having a place to show off my work will inspire me to go on with art and do more in the creative field. I will finally have an audience that will be waiting to see what I present next.

I thought about having a blog like this for a while. And now that I have it, I can’t wait to start sharing my life and work with the blogosphere world.