June

I'm not quite ready for it to be June. For a couple of reasons.

Monday, the 5th, will mark one year that I've been in Portland. It's been quite a year. I have rather mixed feelings about the fact that I've been here a year. I don't regret having moved here, but it's not exactly been amazingly wonderful. Not that I quite expected that it would be. I mostly knew what I was getting myself into. Someone who's only known me for a week told me last night that it was pretty clear that I needed not to be here, that this was clearly not the place for me right now.

At the other end of the month is my birthday. Not that I feel all oh-woe-is-me-I'm-getting-older. Age is just a number. Thing is, I find that everyone always makes a much bigger deal out of my birthday than I do, which always kind of bugs me, and when I do try to make a big deal out of my birthday, it seems to have a tendency to fall flat on its face.

So I'm not having a birthday party. I'm having a St-Jean-Baptiste Day party instead. Not that I ever did much for it when I was living in Montreal, but it's conveniently on a Saturday this year, between the first day of summer and my birthday (well, it's always between the first day of summer and my birthday...). And my roommate and I have been saying since we moved into the apartment in October that we should have a party. So, you're all invited, of course.

And now I must go shower and try not to be too hung over and go get my hair cut.

Then I'll come home and nap. Mmm...bed.

Oh, did I mention that I had to close both stores last night, one right after the other? It was great. (sarcasm!) And I get to do it again on Sunday.

Close, but...

Funny enough, Cat, you actually were close on why I'm predicting this to be a good summer.

Ahem...

Love, exciting and new
Come Aboard. We're expecting you.
Love, life's sweetest reward.
Let it flow, it floats back to you.

Love Boat soon will be making another run
The Love Boat promises something for everyone
Set a course for adventure,
Your mind on a new romance.

Love won't hurt anymore
It's an open smile on a friendly shore.
Yes LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE! It's LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!

Summer love, anyway. A summer fling. 'Summer days, drifting away but, oh, those summer nights!'

It's Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial beginning of summer. Maine is a great place to be in the summer. And I've been planning to make this a great summer anyway. But now I'm fairly certain that it will be.

I wish I were going to be spending the summer in Montreal, as Cat suggested, but her first suggestion, about being a Love Boat guy, well.... Something like that. (What the hell is a 'Hands up, baby! Hands up!' resort? I'm kind of afraid to ask, actually.)

He's here only for the summer. Very well defined. Can't get any big ideas because it's far too short. But already someone I could see myself falling for in a different situation (i.e., neither of us leaving the city in a few months). This is a good thing. It confirms what I kept trying to tell myself after the break up: there are other guys out there that I could potentially feel as strongly for; it would be really stupid to continue to pine after the ex, waiting for him to change his mind--it might happen, but it might just not be meant to be.

In other news, the weather here has been GORGEOUS. Sun, some clouds, temps the past couple of days floating between 18C and 22C. Low humidity.

I wore shorts and sandals all day yesterday for the first time this year. It was wonderful. Except that my feet are sunburned now. Not too terribly, but enough.

Survey says...

...this will be a good summer. Oh, yes, I predict it shall be.

Ask me why later. :-)

Declaration of Summer Intent

As we edge closer to the beginning of summer--Memorial Day is this weekend after all--I would like to make a declaration.

I declare that this summer shall be...

The Summer of the Champagne Cocktail

That is all. Please return to your lives.

Ok, I take it back...

...we are out to convert the kids. At least, the folks at the company that makes super soakers seem to be...

Random thoughts upon waking up

'There's always some new bloke, some better bloke, just waiting round the corner. That's why you keep going out.'

For some reason, I woke up this morning with this line form the British version of Queer As Folk in my head. Not really sure why. Well, I am, I think, but what's more important is how much of a lie it is.

Especially in this town.

Carbon Dioxide: they call it pollution, we call it life

Click the link. Watch the videos. Heard about this on Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me this morning.

All I have to say: fucked up.

Week recap

Longest. Week. Ever.

My work week is Sunday through Thursday.

Sunday was fine. Nothing special.

Monday was hell. I had some office work to do in the morning and then had to be at our other location (i.e., not the one I'm usually at) at noon for the closing shift. I was supposed to close with the new girl who had never closed before ever. I knew it was going to take some extra time but I wasn't too worried since the new girl strikes me as fairly on top of things. I had only ever worked one shift there before so I only kind of knew where things were. But, we'd figure it out. Except that she didn't show up. No call. Nothing. Not answering her phone. So it was only the guy doing the mid-shift and me all afternoon until four when we should have been three people. And then one of my co-workers from my regular location came in to help me close. It was like the blind leading the blind but we persevered. As it turned out, the new girl's mum had to go to the ER, she she had a rather good excuse. Not that that made the day any more fun since the afternoon was super busy. Rather more busy than I had expected it to be. After work, my co-worker and I met up with my roommate and some of her friends for a much needed drink.

Tuesday was okay. At the other location again but a bit more manageable. And I had a couple of my regular customers from my location come in towards the end of the night, which was a pleasant surprise.

Wednesday I was at my usual location which was like being home.

Thursday I was once again at the other location. But then I got to go dancing Thursday night which was wonderful.

Yesterday, I watched the Godfather Part 3. Why does everyone think it sucks so much? It's not as good as the other two, no, but it certainly stands with them. And then I went dancing again last night.

But not before stopping in at my bar for a drink and finding my ex already there. And not having a drink in the end because I said that I wasn't going to stay (there were other people there that I knew, but I was supposed to meet a friend after work somewhere else anyway). So I stood there with my jacket on not staying for almost an hour talking to him. And it was mostly okay. It felt a bit awkward but it was okay. We reiterated our plan to get together at some point soon, maybe for a movie, which didn't happen last Saturday as we had planned since I was in a really off mood most of the day--anti-social but didn't want to be alone and at a rather low point--relatively as compared to recently--in my recovering from the breakup. Of course, he also woke up from his afternoon nap at 9.30pm, which was pretty much too late anyway. So possibly we'll get together this coming week at some point. Maybe. He was insistent that I should phone him when my schedule for the week sorted itself out.

We'll see. Whatever we do, it's essentially going to be a date. Except not. I think I'm about ready for that. We'll find out, I guess.

It's a good sign for the day when...

...you hear the word 'gangbanger' on NPR. And it's right before you get to church.

A Softer World

I read an online comic called 'A Softer World'. It's done by a friend of a friend and never fails to be deliciously odd.

There's always a little story or essay or missive in the email that the author sends out each week when he updates the comic. This is this week's:

Sometimes it feels good to fall off your skateboard. It hurts like a fucker, and your body aches and you can't stop smiling. Sometimes it feels good to go out and skate and climb and run until you're exhausted, miles away from home. You didn't plan on ending up somehwre so far. You just did what your body wanted. It's like that scene in Gattaca, where the two brothers are swimming out into the ocean. The perfect brother realizes that he's getting tired, that he won't be able to make it back if he goes any father, and the other brother says "I've never saved anything for the trip back."

That's very much how I feel right now. On a lot of different levels.

Happy Friday all!

Add It Up

No, not the Violent Femmes song, although that could also apply.

The ex came into work last night and ended up running into a friend of his and so stayed for a bit. Fine. No big deal. Except that it was the longest time I'd seen him in quite a while and did a bit of a number on me. Why aren't we together? I'm not really sure. I started to miss him a lot.

I already had plans for after work but they ended up including rather more alcohol than I probably really needed.

2 beers. 5 champagne cocktails. 1 shot of stoli.

I mostly blame the champagne.

Hung over, I definitely am, but this is attempt two at the day and I've already taken advil and drank two glasses of water when I woke up the first time a few hours ago.

I had fun last night and managed not to think too much about the ex. Which is a good sign, I'm sure. Still, we have tentative plans to do something Saturday. The whole staying friends thing and all. We'll see how it goes, I guess.

Also, I hate when you're sitting at a bar, clearly alone, clearly reading a book, clearly not interested in conversation and someone keeps talking to you.

A lazy social butterfly

That's me. That's why I haven't posted in quite a while.

I'm all better from the flu and I've been making the most of it. Going out a lot with friends. Not sitting at home and reading Dickens all by myself (not that there's anything wrong with that).

I even had a date on Friday!

That's because I went out dancing on Thursday and met a boy.

A nice boy. Someone to hang out with and do fun things with. Not someone to spend the rest of my life with. But that's quite all right.

Summer's coming. Yay!

Oh, and changes at work, too. I'm now the new espresso trainer. And I'm doing one day a week in the office. And might start working a shift or two at the other store. So I'm mixing things up a bit, which is a good thing.

Hm. There are probably other things to write about but I can't think of any at the moment and I have to finish getting ready to go to work.

Riiiiiiiicola

I'm so sick of Ricola throat drops. Can't I just be better now?

Maybe if I had these guys ministering to me, I wouldn't mind the Ricola so much....

(Be sure to watch the commercial on the linked page.)

Update

Yes, I haven't posted in over a week. I'm still alive. Kind of. Flu. Maybe I'll sit down tomorrow at some point and get together a summary of the past week. There's certainly enough to write about.... Nothing overly dramatic, mind you, just a usual week's worth of stuff.

'Jesus Shaves'

This is the title of one of my favourite David Sedaris stories, in which he writes about his French class attempting to explain—in French—the concept of Easter to a Moroccan student. In it, David also learns that they don't have the Easter Bunny in France, but a bell that flies in from Rome to distribute chocolates to children. He's rather unimpressed with a bell and thinks it highly improbably: 'I called for a time-out. "But how do the bell know where you live?"

"Well," she said, "how does a rabbit?"

It was a decent point, but at least a rabbit has eyes. That's a start...'

Here's the conclusion to the story, which seemed appropriate to post as we head into Easter weekend.

Nothing we said was of any help to the Moroccan student. A dead man with long hair supposedly living with her father, a leg of lamb served with palm fronds and chocolate; equally confused and disgusted, she shrugged her massive shoulders and turned her attention back to the comic book she kept hidden beneath her binder.

I wondered then if, without the language barrier, my classmates and I could have done a better job making sense of Christianity, an idea that sounds pretty far-fetched to begin with.

In communicating any religious belief, the operative word is faith, a concept illustrated by our very presence in that classroom. Why bother struggling with the grammar lessons of a six-year-old if each of us didn't believe that, against all reason, we might eventually improve? If I could hope to one day carry on a fluent conversation, it was a relatively short leap to believing that a rabbit might visit my home in the middle of the night, leaving behind a handful of chocolate kisses and a carton of menthol cigarettes. So why stop there? If I could believe in myself, why not give other improbabilities the benefit of the doubt? I told myself that despite her past behaviour, my teacher was a kind and loving person who only had my best interests at heart. I accepted the idea that an omniscient God had cast me in his own image and that he watched over me and guided me from one place to the next. The Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, and the countless miracles—my heart expanded to encompass all the wonders and possibilities of the universe.

A bell, though—that's fucked up.

Such horrible business/formal language...

...why can't people write?

But....

...I am in receipt of your resume for the Program Assistant position at the Boston Foundation.

We are currently reviewing your background to determine if there is a match. If your background fits our needs, we will contact you.

Thank you for your interest in working at the Boston Foundation.

Sincerely,...

This is the first nibble I've gotten back from the resumes I've sent out thus far. I realise it's just a form-letter response. But it's something! :-D

Allergies and Emotion

They have returned. My allergies, that is. It's a good sign since it means that Spring is here. And before any of you back in Montreal post any comments--I don't care if you all got sick after I did, I still say that those were allergies and not a cold!

For the past two weeks or so, I've had these really low-level and annoying symptoms. Scratchy throat. Itchy nose. To top it all off, my wisdom teeth have been acting up again. Correction. One wisdom tooth. The lower left one. So I've not been sleeping great either.

The wisdom tooth seems to be calming down though, at least. It's kind of odd, actually. They've been trying to come in for seven or eight years now. The dentist always tells me that I have plenty of room and that they're not impacted. They're just taking their sweet ass time. The two top ones are in. It's the two bottom ones now. The really odd part about it, though, is that they always act up in the Spring. Except that for the past five years--when I was living in Montreal--they started acting up around May or so. They're a month early. Which leads me to assume that my body is in tune with the actual temperature and weather in some weird way and that it's not just connected to a 12-month cycle of my wisdom teeth giving it a go and then resting.

As for emotion. It's something that I'm lacking. Not as regards the break-up but as regards church. It's been about two months now that I've been going every Sunday. Well, I missed one week because I had to work Sunday morning. I don't dislike it. I decided that I would go at least through Easter, which is this coming Sunday. I think I'll keep going. I was thinking about it Sunday night at work and I realised that although I've very easily opened up to this intellectually, to listening attentively to the readings, to the sermons, thinking about what the prayers and call-and-responses actually mean and not just letting them be rote recitations, I've not yet, it seems, been able to open up to it emotionally.

When I was growing up, I always got excited about going to church. We never went on any regular basis though I wanted to. I was an altar boy by my own decision (not that I was discouraged) but my parents would always drive me to church when I had to serve a mass and then go home. They never actually went to the mass itself. During the summer--especially if I had an 8.15 mass to serve--it wasn't out of the question for them to have me walk to church. It was only a 10-15 minute walk after all. And it was something I was happy to do, feeling kind of cool and kind of completely idiotic walking down the street carrying my altar boy robes. I think once I actually walked to church wearing them.

Before I became utterly disenchanted with the Catholic church, though, going to mass stirred so much in me. The music. The candles. The singing. The prayers. I connected with it on a fairly deep level. Part of me wonders if maybe it was because I was so young and that there was just so much mystery to all of it. I suspect that we're much more open to mystery and wonder when we're young. By the time we become adults, we've become too disenchanted with the lies of the world to readily open up to mystery again.

What made me really realise that I hadn't yet really connected or opened up to the emotional aspect of going to church was during the procession of the palms this past Sunday, Palm Sunday. At the opening of the service, the entire congregation is supposed to process around the church, singing hymns, holding and/or waving palm fronds, as a re-enactment of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. Of course, not the entire congregation did process. Most people just stayed in their pews, but there was a fair number of people. I was sitting alone, as usual, towards the end of a pew in the second to last row. As the procession passed me, one of the assistant ministers reached out to me and motioned for me to join the procession. I would have felt like an ass had I not joined.

So I did. And I kept singing. And holding my palm frond. And processing.

But it was all just motions.

There's one part of the service, though, that stirs something. And it always has. From the time I was a kid, through the few times that I went to mass after I'd been confirmed, and every time that I've gone to church these past few months. At the very beginning of the celebration of the eucharist, the minister says, 'The Lord be with you,' to which the congregation responds, 'And also with you.' 'Lift up your hearts.' 'We lift them up to the Lord.' 'Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.' 'It is right to give him thanks and praise.'

There's something in those brief lines that stirs something in my heart. So, I have some kernel of emotion to work with, perhaps. Part of me wonders if I've just been so emotionally pre-occupied that I have little to spare for this new venture. But I suspect that much more likely is that I really will need to work at opening myself up again to this kind of experience, something that I had closed myself to for so long.

Wait, wait...

I'm listening to 'Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me' for the first time since the breakup.

It wasn't a solid tradition, but often we'd wake up together on Saturday mornings and do our best to stay in bed to listen to 'Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me' together. I never listened to it before I dated him so it has a very strong connection in my mind to him.

I'm enjoying it and not at all depressed and morose about the fact that I'm not snuggling with him right now while listening to it.

As Martha would say, this is a good thing.

Zen?

I was reading through old blog entries last night. Really old. From before I was even here on blogger. Back in my blurty days.

I found one about running into a guy that I dated briefly back in Montreal. In a lot of ways, he was the French-Canadian version of the minister. The post was about running into him many months after we'd broken things off--though we weren't together very long.

It was a different situation, obviously, but it was good to read about him and to remember him and to remember how I felt when that ended and how it felt to see him again. It made me realise--and hammered home the point to a certain extent--that things will get better. And that amazing people can and will come into my life again.

That's unfair, in a way, because I'm surrounded by amazing people. All of my friends are amazing people. Otherwise, they wouldn't be my friends.

I will meet someone as amazing, if not more so, at some point. It won't be tomorrow. It might be. But not likely.

My heart needs time to mend, that much is for sure. But it will. And it's started to already. I have a long way to go, no doubt. But it'll get there. And, hopefully, I'll still have him in my life as a friend when I get there.

In any event, I've yet another song to post. I know that seems to be all I've been posting recently but it's part of my coping process. Deal. I certainly am.

'For Good' from Wicked

ELPHABA
I'm limited.
Just look at me - I'm limited
And just look at you -
You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda
So now it's up to you
For both of us
Now it's up to you

GLINDA
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

ELPHABA
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you

GLINDA
Because I knew you

BOTH
I have been changed for good

ELPHABA
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for

GLINDA
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share

BOTH
And none of it seems to matter anymore

GLINDA (ELPHABA)
Like a comet pulled (Like a ship blown)
From orbit as it (Off it's mooring)
Passes a sun, like (By a wind off the)
A stream that meets (Sea, like a seed)
A boulder, half-way (Dropped by a)
Through the wood (Bird in the wood)

BOTH
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better

GLINDA
And because I knew you

ELPHABA
Because I knew you

BOTH
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good.

Once again, Free Will Astrology

CANCER (June 21 - July 22): 'All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware,' wrote philosopher Martin Buber. That's something you're on the verge of proving, Cancerian. Any day now I hope you will discover the hidden truth about a treasure you didn't know you were searching for; you will stumble upon the surprising answer to a riddle you hadn't even realized you desperately needed to solve.

And what about the riddle that I know I desperately do need to solve? The one that involves the boy? And my stomach and heart lurching when I walked by my bar last night and saw him sitting there? At least, I'm 99% sure it was him. I only saw him from behind.

I know he'll always have a place in my heart, I just wish that my heart would get a grip and let him go enough that I can really start to get on with things. So that I can see him and not long for him, long to be with him, long for a situation I know just isn't possible right now.

I keep listening to the Ben Folds Five song that I posted lyrics to a little while ago, 'Don't Change Your Plans'. It's more or less what I'd imagine him saying to me, not something I'd say to him right now...

Sometimes I get the feeling
That I won't be on this planet
For very long
I really like it here
I'm quite attached to it
I hope I'm wrong

All I really wanna say
Is you're the reason I wanna stay
I loved you before I met you
And I met you just in time
'Cause there was nothing left

I sat here on my suitcase
In our empty new apartment
Until the sun went down
Then I walked back down the stairs
With all my bags and drove away
You must be freaking out

All I know is I've gotta be
Where my heart says I oughta be
It often makes no sense, in fact,
I never understand these things I feel

Don't change your plans for me
I won't move to LA
The leaves are falling back east
That's where I'm gonna stay

You have made me smile again
In fact, I might be sore from it
It's been a while
I know we've been together many times before
I'll see you on the other side

Don't change your plans for me
I won't move to LA
The leaves are falling back east
That's where I'm going to stay

All I really wanna say
Is you're the reason I wanna stay
But destiny is calling and won't hold
And when my time is up I'm outta here

All I know is I gotta be
Where my heart says I oughta be
It often makes no sense, in fact
I never understand these things I feel

I love you, good bye
I love you, good bye...

Because things like these need to be shared...

www.catsinsinks.com

www.kittenwar.com

Hmm...

I think I mentioned in a previous post that I've been renting a lot of movies recently. Today, I went to return some and to rent the last two episodes of Ric Burns' New York documentary. It's been really good, slightly addictive. I got really frustrated with the episode that I finished watching the other night ended. Because I didn't want to.

Anyway, there was a new, cute boy working there. This is a good sign, right? That I'm starting to check out boys again?

I think so.

Morning randomness

Mike Tyson pays respect to Mao

And I woke up with the first track, 'Hung Up', from Madonna's not-so-new-anymore album stuck in my head. An album I own but have listened to MAYBE twice.

We have a new girl training at work. I stopped in Saturday night to get an espresso on my way elsewhere. I was sitting at the back counter drinking my espresso and she came back to grind a pound of coffee for a customer. After most of the beans had gone through, she looked into the top of the grinder and saw that there were still beans stuck to the sides of the hopper. So, I watched in horror as she reached her hand into the hopper to brush the beans down towards the grinder. At this point, I practically leapt across the counter and started shouting her name. To no avail. So I started clapping my hands. I was less than three feet away from her. My co-worker at the cash, easily 10-15 feet away (I'm really bad at spatial estimates), turned around because she heard me. Not the new girl, though. After she turned the grinder off, she was rather surprised to see me leaning across the counter and so close to her. I practically yelled in her face, 'DON'T EVER PUT YOUR HAND IN THE GRINDER LIKE THAT WHEN IT'S PLUGGED IN, NEVER MIND TURNED ON!'

'Oh,' she responded. 'Yeah. I guess that's not such a good idea, huh?'

Did I mention that I have a job interview on Thursday for an office assistant position? With the non-profit that my roommate works for?

Highs and Lows

The high point of my day so far? The only piece of mail was a notice that I've been pre-approved for a Home Depot card. Great. Have I been pre-approved for a home to improve, too?

The low point of my day? Getting called to go in an hour early to work because someone was a no-show. Can I get a new job now, please? I'm waiting to hear back for an interview with a local non-profit for an office assistant position. Hopefully this week or next. *fingers crossed*

Actually, the real high point of my day is probably what I've made for lunch/dinner to bring to work with me: a tuna and potato salad with onion, celery and carrot, seasoned with salt, pepper, coriander, fennel seed and olive oil. Yum.

And now I'm off to enjoy a bit of the gorgeous 11c day outside before being trapped indoors all day.

I think...

...I want a dog. Not a big one. But not an over-size rat, either. Maybe Boston Terrier sized, like my neighbour's dog, Guinness (so-named for his pint size) but perhaps a bit larger.

And I shall name him Dante.

(PS Boston weekend post upcoming. When I get around to sitting down to write it.)

The brilliance of the Onion never ceases to amaze me

Franz Ferdinand Frontman Shot By Gavrilo Princip Bassist

March 17, 2006 | Issue 42•12

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND—Lead singer and guitarist for pop band Franz Ferdinand, Alexander Kapranos, is in critical condition today after being shot by a man identified as the bassist for rock group Gavrilo Princip. "We ask fans to cooperate with Interpol to find the assailant, and call upon British Sea Power, Snow Patrol, and The Postal Service for help," drummer Paul Thompson told music magazine NME Monday. "The suspect had links to The Decemberists and The Libertines, and we are following up on all leads." It is unclear whether the shooting was linked to The Polyphonic Spree's invasion of Belgium earlier this week.

(of course, these are all real bands, including Interpol.... The history: The First World War was sparked by the assassination of Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo by a Bosnian Serb nationalist, Gavrilo Princip. So far as I know, though, there is no actual band named Gavrilo Princip.)

Through the Inferno

I finished reading the Inferno tonight. Now it's on to the Purgatorio.

As for my own hoped upward arc, I'm still feeling pretty good about things. Relatively, anyway.

And I'm going to Boston for the weekend. Yay. A chance to get out of Portland! :-)

Random

I got a free bottle of Worcestershire Sauce today.

'And so it is'

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time

from 'The Blower's Daughter' by Damien Rice

I saw the boy for the first time yesterday since we broke up. And...it was good.

I didn't really know quite what to expect from it, or how I would really react to seeing him. I didn't cry right away, at least.

It was a good conversation. He told me things I already knew, but that helped to hear from him anyway. Like the fact that there's nothing that he can say or do--unless I feel like I have specific things I want to ask him--to help me work through my own feelings. He reinforced how much he does care for me and how much he does still want me in his life but also that we can't start working towards a friendship--a friendship that he thinks can be a very good and strong and intimate one--until I can get myself to a point where I can see him and talk to him without having expectations for things that he doesn't feel that he can give me right now.

I told him about how I keep having these stupid fantasies about five years down the road, where we're both at different points in our lives and it makes sense then. I told him that I realised how stupid and academic those fantasies are given just how impossible it is to predict a day from now never mind five years from now. And he agreed. He said, Yes, maybe five years from now things will be different. But neither of us can even pretend to predict that and so it's probably not a good thing to spend a lot of time thinking about. I was rather happy that he didn't completely deny the possibility. But I know that he's right, too, that it's something so beyond our control that it's really not something to put a lot of energy into.

I also told him that I am continuing to work through all sorts of emotional baggage that I thought had been long dealt with from the aforementioned relationship of four years ago. I didn't give him specifics but told him that the baggage had been bringing me to really dark thoughts. Not 'I want to kill myself' thoughts, mind you, but thoughts about reasons for the break up that I know are unworthy of him and contradictory to everything that he is. Thoughts that have been very tough to get out of my mind but ones that I know are entirely created by a past pain. I told him that I knew that it was far beyond the point that I could talk to my ex and think it would make things better--and also that I didn't think talking with him (the current boy) would necessarily help either. Mostly, I just wanted to put it out there so he knew where I was at with things.

And so...

Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
ché la diritta via era smarrita.

When I had journeyed half our life's way,
I found myself within a shadowed forest,
for I had lost the path that does not stray.

I started re-reading the Divine Comedy last week. I'm almost through Inferno. I'd been looking for something to lift my spirits and hadn't had any luck. I'd been thinking of re-reading this for a while and it seemed an appropriate metaphor for me right now as well as appropriate for this time of year, since Easter is coming up and the work takes place over Easter weekend.

Last night, I came to one of my favourite canti of the Inferno, XXVI. Here, Dante and Virgil encounter Ulysses and Diomedes entwined together in a single flame in the pouch of the false councillors. Only Ulysses speaks and he tells of his attempt to sail past the Pillars of Hercules--the westernmost limit of the Ancient world (indeed, of the known world until the Americas were reached). He recalls the speech he gave to his men:

'Brothers', I said, 'o you, who having crossed
a hundred thousand dangers, reach the west,
to this brief waking-time that is still left
unto your senses, you must not deny
experience of that which lies beyond
the sun, and of the world that is unpeopled.
Consider well the seed that gave you birth:
you were not made to live your lives as brutes,
but to be followers of virtue and knowledge.'

And so he and his crew strike out, into unexplored territory. Eventually, they draw near the mountain of Purgatory, the only land mass in the southern hemisphere (if you want to know more about medieval geography, ask). As they approach, though, a whirlwind is sent out from the mountain which tosses them back to the Mediterranean.

And for this he winds up in one of the deepest levels of Hell. This has always bothered me. A lot. He encourages his men to seek out new knowledge and is punished for eternity for providing false council. In other words, seeking knowledge beyond the set limits is an affront to God. I think Dante was rather wrong on this one. It's the thirst for knowledge that is beyond our limits that is one of the things that makes us human. And, if we go with the Christian notion that we were created in God's image then it would seem that to seek new knowledge, if it is an inherent impulse, would be rather a godly thing to do.

But I digress. This wasn't supposed to be about theology.

My whole point about the Divine Comedy and Easter coming up, and the fact that today is the first full day of Spring is that these are all things that are somehow connected with renewal and rebirth and resurrection.

I always knew that I would eventually heal from the breakup. I'm not saying that I have yet. I suspect that it will be a very long time, in fact, before I am entirely healed. But talking to the boy yesterday gave me a glimpse at what's waiting once I begin to heal: he'll still be in my life and he can still be an important part of my life. Just in a different way. The song 'Don't Change Your Plans' by Ben Folds Five comes to mind:

Don't change your plans for me
I won't move to LA
The leaves are falling back east
That's where I'm going to stay

All I really wanna say
Is you're the reason I wanna stay
But destiny is calling and won't hold
And when my time is up I'm outta here

All I know is I gotta be
Where my heart says I oughta be
It often makes no sense, in fact
I never understand these things,
I feel

I love you, good bye
I love you, good bye...

He needs to do what he needs to do for himself before he can think about someone else. I can't keep him from that and it would be unfair of me even to try.

I still have a fairly deep hole that I need to get myself out of but I feel like I have a sense of how to start now.

Number 4...

They want to give the Montreal Olympic stadium ANOTHER roof. This would be the fourth roof that it's had in its 30 years. Why can't they just let it rot? As some kind of testimony to how much the games cost the city and the province?

Jean Drapeau, mayor of Montreal at the time of the games, once said (and I've always assumed that this was in reference to the stadium, but I'm not positive), 'The ugliness of slums in which people live doesn't matter if we can make them stand wide-eyed in admiration of works of art they don't understand.'

The More You Ruv Someone - Avenue Q

(Note: these lyrics are not wine-related. They are connected to my thinking about last night and talking to the boy today, which I was surprised by, given that I drunk im'ed and then drunk dialed him and then drunk im'ed him again and said a few stupid and nasty things.

He wasn't blowing me off so much as we had misunderstood each other. I thought he was going to phone me from work since he had lost his cell phone but he was expecting me to phone him when I finished work and, failing that, to im him when I got home since I don't have a set time that I finish work by, just a general idea.

I've left the ball in his court about getting together. He says he does want to see me but doesn't want it to be forced or contrived. And he doesn't want there to be any yelling involved. I don't want there to be any yelling either. My stupidity last night aside, I'm not so much angry with him as I am just hurt and confused about the situation. I told him as much when I talked to him earlier. Knowing his schedule, I'm guessing/hoping that we'll get together sometime early next week.

In the meantime, Videoport has become my new boyfriend. I've rented SO many movies over the past couple of weeks and am well on my way to watching David Lynch's entire oeuvre. I'd only ever seen Dune and Mulholland Drive. I watched Blue Velvet Wednesday night and rented Lost Highway tonight but haven't watched it yet. I also rented the first episode of Ric Burns' documentary on New York. Pretty good. I'm sure the other five will live up to this one.)

Kate Monster:
Why can’t people get along and love each other, Christmas Eve?

Christmas Eve:
You think getting along same as loving?
Sometimes love right where you hating most, Kate Monster.

Kate Monster:
Huh?

Christmas Eve:
The more you ruv someone,
The more you want to kill ‘em.
The more you ruv someone,
The more he make you cry

Though you are try
For making peace
With them and loving,
That’s why you ruv so strong
You like to make him die!

The more you ruv someone,
The more he make you crazy.
The more you ruv someone,
The more you wishing him dead!

Sometime you look at him
And only see fat and lazy,
And wanting baseball bat
For hitting him on his head!

Ruv

Kate Monster:
Love

Christmas Eve:
And hate

Kate Monster:
And hate

Christmas Eve:
They like two brothers

Kate Monster:
Brothers

Christmas Eve:
Who go on a date

Kate Monster:
Who....what?

Christmas Eve:
Where one of them goes,
Other one follows
You inviting ruv
He also bringing sorrows

Kate Monster:
Ah, yes.

Christmas Eve:
The more you ruv someone,
The more you want to kill ‘em.
Ruving and killing
Fit like hand in glove!

Kate Monster:
Hand in glove.

Christmas Eve:
So if there someone
You are wanting so
To kill ‘em.
You go and find him.
And you get him.
And you no kill him.
‘Cause chances good

Both:
He is your love.

For what it's worth...

...the previous lyrics have been thanks to a bottle of Jacob's Creek Shiraz and the boy blowing me off tonight. We were supposed to get together tonight to talk, and he never phoned.

Any further lyrics dated from tonight or tomorrow will likely be from that same bottle unless otherwise noted.

A chi? - Fausto Leali

A chi?
Sorriderò se non a te?
A chi?
Se tu, tu non sei più qui?

(To whom?
Will I smile at if not at you?
To whom?
If you're, you're no longer here?)

Ormai è finita,
È finita, tra di noi.
Ma forse un po' della mia vita
È rimasta negli occhi tuoi.

(Now it's over,
Over beteween us.
But perhaps a little bit of my life
Remains in your eyes.)

A chi?
Io parlerò, se non a te?
A chi?
Racconterò tutti i sogni miei?

(To whom?
Will I talk, if not to you?
To whom?
Will I tell all my dreams?)

Lo sai m'hai fatto male
Lasciandomi solo così.
Ma non importa, io ti aspetterò.

(You know that you've done wrong
Leaving me here alone like this.
But that doesn't matter, I'll wait for you.)

A chi?
Io parlerò se non a te?
A chi?
Racconterò tutti i sogni miei?

(To whom?
Will I talk, if not to you?
To whom?
Will I tell all my dreams?)

Lo sai m'hai fatto male
Lasciandomi solo così.
Ma non importa, io ti aspetterò.

(You know that you've done wrong
Leaving me here alone like this.
But that doesn't matter, I'll wait for you.)

Antologia - Shakira

Just two lines...

Pero olvidaste una final instruccion
por que aun no se como vivir sin tu amor?


'But you forgot one final instruction
How am I supposed to live without your love?'

Motorcycle Drive By - Third Eye Blind

Summertime and the wind is blowing outside in lower Chelsea
And I don't know what I'm doing in this city
The sun is always in my eyes
It crashes through the windows
And I'm sleeping on the couch
When I came to visit you
That's when I knew
That I could never have you
I knew that before you did
Still I'm the one whose stupid

And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone
And I've never been so alive

Visions of you on a motorcycle drive by
The cigarette ash flies in your eyes
And you don't mind
And you smile
And say the world doesn't fit with you.
I don't believe you
You're so serene
Careening through the universe
Your axis on a tilt
Guiltless and free
I hope you take a piece of me with you

And there's things I'd like to do that you don't believe in
I would like to build something
But you'll never see it happen
And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone
And I, I've never been so alive

And there's this burning
There is this burning

Where's the soul, I want to know
New York City is evil
The surface is everything
But I could never do that
Someone would see through that
And this is the last time
We'll be friends again
And I'll get over you
You'll wonder who I am

And there's this burning,
just like there's always been,
I've never been so alone, alone
And I've never been so alive
So alive.

I go home to the coast, it starts to rain
I paddle out on the water
Alone.
Taste the salt and taste the pain
I'm not thinking of you again
Summer dies and swells rise
The sun goes down in my eyes
See this rolling wave
Darkly coming to take me
Home.

And I never been so alone
And I've never been so alive.

Somewhat against my better judgement...

...I finally rented 'Closer' and have just watched it. I've been wanting to see it again for a bit, but it's been at the forefront of my list over the past couple of weeks. But each time that I've gone to rent it, the dvd copy has been out.

I feel incredibly numb right now. And it's given me the hope that things will either work out wonderfully or not at all.

And I have no way of knowing which it is.

Woop-dee-doo

As I sat down to pay bills, I noticed that my Visa credit limit has been increased. My excitement can barely be contained. (NB: That last sentence is DRIPPING with sarcasm.)

My interest for last month was also $6.66.

It's kind of like...

I've come to the conclusion that living in this city--and working where I work--bears a striking resemblance to living in a David Lynch film.

Progress?

I've been alternating between two play lists recently...

I.
And So It Goes - Billy Joel
The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice
There's a Fine, Fine Line - Avenue Q
Heartbreaking Love - Rhett Miller
Summer, Highland Falls - Billy Joel
I've Loved These Days - Billy Joel
Without You - Rent
It Can't Come Quickly Enough - Scissor Sisters
Long Way to Run - Collective Soul
Ma vie à l'heure (La toune de l'Ouest) - Les Respectables
Both Sides Now (Orchestral version) - Joni Mitchell
Still Fighting It - Ben Folds

II.
Travelin' Thru - Dolly Parton
Ma vie à l'heure (La toune de l'Ouest) - Les Respectables
Still Fighting It - Ben Folds
It Can't Come Quickly Enough - Scissor Sisters
The Promised Land - Bruce Springsteen
These Are Days - 10,000 Maniacs
Against the Wind - Bob Seger
Say Goodbye to Hollywood - Billy Joel

I've mostly switched over to listening to the second play list, moving away from the first's emphasis on emotional break-up like songs to the second's emphasis on moving on, coping, etc. Mostly. Not entirely. I may add Dido's White Flag to the second one, though.

It's not been quite two weeks yet. I still haven't seen him, though I've spoken to him a couple of times.

I still keep asking myself why and I'm still not satisfied with the answers.

I think this about describes it

Blech

I didn't sleep well last night. Strange dreams. Not nightmares, just strange. I woke up around 4 and couldn't get back to sleep until close to six. I considered getting up to see the sunrise but didn't. I miss sharing my bed with the boy. Whenever I would wake up in the middle of the night, it was easy to get back to sleep when he was on the other side of the bed.

Maybe I'm putting too much on this relationship, short as it was?

I don't think so. It felt too right for me to let it go so easily, even if it was comparatively short.

Today's semi-neurotic thought

I don't want to end up like Julia Roberts in 'My Best Friend's Wedding', trying to break up the boy's wedding at some point down the road and try to steal him back for myself.

Not that I would ever do that.

Jobs

I just applied for my first big boy job. Although I think it's already been filled, sadly. There was a posting Monday on idealist.org for an admin assistant position at Oxfam America (which I never knew was based in Boston). When I went to look at the position again on Tuesday, it was gone--both from the Idealist website and from the Oxfam site.

Alas.

I hoped at first that it was maybe just a glitch, but it has yet to reappear. I figured that it couldn't hurt to send off a cover letter and résumé anyway, though.

So I did.

We'll see.

In the meantime, the search continues....

Another week, another horoscope

While I don't build my life around them, I do find that horoscopes and astrology in general usually have something to them. Once again, Free Will Astrology from the Village Voice speaks to me....

As a Cancerian, you're sometimes prone to indulging in pathological levels of self-sufficiency. You can get into the bad habit of making it hard for people to give you emotional support, constructive feedback, and plain old ordinary gifts. That's why I hesitate to say anything that might encourage you to get into a woe-is-me, I-have-to-do-everything-myself mode of heroic martyrdom. Nevertheless, I've decided to take that risk. To achieve the breakthrough that's now available, you may have to take what Ernest Hemingway described as the path to greatness: Push yourself 'far out past where you can go, out to where no one can help you.'

A breath?

Portland, I think, is very slowly--but ever so surely--suffocating me.

Un autre mars...

...quand je pense que je doive remettre ma vie à l'heure....

Ma vie à l'heure (La toune de l'ouest) par Les Respectables

L'autre soir j'ai reçu un appel
On m'invitait à prendre le large
Une p'tite coquine que je désirais
Depuis l'secondaire s'il vous plait
Mais j'savais pas trop quoi penser
Tsé la liberté ça m'faisait peur
Ça me donne la frousse de tout quitter
Mais cette fille-là je l'ai au coeur

J'ai fait le tour de mon école
J'sais pas vraiment c'qui m'intéresse
Toujours assis sur mes deux fesses
J'crois que j'vais tout laisser tomber

Cette fois viens je t'emmène
Le soleil brillera pour nous deux
J'attendais de tes nouvelles
J'attendais ton appel
Goodbye à mes vrais amis
En vérité je vous le dis
Je remets ma vie à l'heure
Je remets ma vie à l'heure

J'ai décidé d'l'accompagner
D'aller faire un p'tit tour dans l'Ouest
Le mot liberté me reviens
J'suis de Québec et j'm'en souviens
J'pourrais toujours bien revenir
Faut pas partir dans cet esprit là
S'il y a des choses qui me plaisent ici
Elles s'ront plus belles vues de là-bas

Cette fois viens je t'emmène
Le soleil brillera pour nous deux
J'attendais de tes nouvelles
J'attendais ton appel
Goodbye à mes vrais amis
En vérité je vous le dis
Je remets ma vie à l'heure
Je remets ma vie à l'heure

Cette fois viens je t'emmène
Le soleil brillera pour nous deux
Je remets ma vie à l'heure
Je remets ma vie à l'heure

Peut-être qu'il faut s'enfuir loin de son passé
Toujours partir afin de mieux se retrouver

So aujourd'hui nous vlà partis
J'sais pas vraiment c'que je m'en vais faire
J'suis pas si pressé de le trouver
Je serais patient pour lui plaire

Cette fois viens je t'emmène
Le soleil brillera pour nous deux
J'attendais de tes nouvelles
J'attendais ton appel
Goodbye à mes vrais amis
En vérité je vous le dis
Je remets ma vie à l'heure
Je remets ma vie à l'heure

Cette fois viens je t'emmène
Le soleil brillera pour nous deux
J'attendais de tes nouvelles
J'attendais ton appel
Goodbye à mes vrais amis
En vérité je vous le dis
Je remets ma vie à l'heure
Je remets ma vie à l'heure

'Still Fighting It'

It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you’d feel the same things

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It’s so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We’re still fighting it, we’re still fighting it
Oh, we’re still fighting it, we’re still fighting it

Even though this is a song that Ben Folds wrote for his son (with a video that I highly recommend for its touching father/son moments), it is one that has stuck with me and often comes to the surface when I hit a snag.

In case it wasn't obvious from the last post of lyrics, things are not well between the boy and me. We broke up Tuesday night. Because we love each other. And are both too goddamned practical.

As I think I mentioned when I wrote about our space talk, we're both at points that we really need to figure out what we're doing with our futures. I told him that I had come to the firm conclusion that I needed to leave Portland come fall when my lease is up, because I'm increasingly just not happy being here. I'm not really surprised since this was never meant to be permanent--at least part of me is surprised that I've made it even this long. I'm just too much a big city boy to ever really be comfortable in as small a place as this. I told him, though, that I hadn't managed to think very far down the road of leaving because he kept coming up very quickly in my thoughts. Since he may or may not be staying here, I didn't want to think about moving too far if he was still going to be here. I acknowledged that that was thinking rather far ahead, since a lot could happen between now and the fall, but that's where I'm at right now.

For his part, he hadn't gotten very far to thinking about what his plans might be but had mostly been thinking about us and realised that he wasn't in a place that he felt he could make the decisions that he needs to make and fairly take someone else into account. He also said that he just didn't feel sure enough about us to make that kind of jump in thinking about a shared future at this point.

It all comes down to figuring out what's best for both of us. As usual. That's why we broke up. Because we want what's best for each other.

Not that I'm happy with this. Far from it. I've mostly managed to stop crying at the drop of a hat. It's not easy to hear that the other person isn't totally sure about a relationship when you've never been so sure about something ever in your life. But I know that there's little that I can do. We both still very much want to be a part of the other's life. We just have to figure out how to make that work. We'll see how it goes.

And just in case any of this sounds familiar, it's because I did this almost exactly a year ago, when I was getting ready to leave Montréal. Except that it made so much more sense then. And I didn't feel nearly as sure about the guy I was seeing then as I feel about this guy.

My teenaged co-worker, after I told him why I was in such a bad mood on Wednesday, said to me, 'At least you don't have leprosy!' He also suggested that I could do a Google Image search for 'tape worms'.

There is always that, I suppose.

And so it goes - Billy Joel

In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense

And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break

And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows

So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break

And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows

Fun with shards of glass

I set a glass down on the drying rack in the dish room at work last night, somewhere I thought it would stay. It decided that it didn't want to stay there and I went to catch it before it hit the floor. I did catch it before it hit the floor, but after it had shattered against the side of the counter.

I got a pretty good gash on my ring finger on my right hand. Lots of blood. Cleaned it up and bandaged it and decided that it probably would be okay. When I changed the bandage this morning, I changed my mind on that and went to the ER after work. It wasn't too bad. It took about two hours for me to be seen. About what I'd expected, given that I had a pretty nasty wound but that my finger was still in tact and that it had stopped bleeding.

They decided against stitching it up, given that it had happened last night and given the location and shape of it (sort of a U-shape around the side of my finger), but they did give me a tetanus shot and bandaged it up pretty good for me before sending me on my way...after, of course, I recovered from my near faint after making the mistake of watching the nurse dressing the wound.

I so was not cut out to be a doctor.

Things that make you go 'hmm'

When I read my horoscope last week, I didn't really think much of it. I'm kind of happy that I went back to read it, because after reading this week's, I felt like last week's was important...

The mayor of Las Vegas has suggested a novel idea for discouraging graffiti on his city's highway walls. Oscar Goodman envisions televised spectacles in which the vandals' thumbs are cut off. His proposed punishment goes too far for my tastes, but I'm wondering if you might approve of it. Lately you've been having bouts of overreaction, entertaining extreme fantasies in response to circumstances that don't necessarily warrant them. I'm not saying your intense emotions are completely unjustified, Cancerian, nor do I recommend that you repress them. I'm simply asking you to let some time pass before you take action on your feelings.

I was in such a shitty, depressed mood yesterday that I tried not to go to work but couldn't find anyone to cover my shift. I decided that when I got home, I would watch Les Invasions Barbares, a movie that almost always makes me cry, sometimes by the end of the opening credits. Of course, it didn't work last night. But it gave me the nudge I needed, I think. On the whole, it's a film about finding peace. I've not yet found that, but I think I'm out of the rut that I've been in for the past week. We'll see how it goes.

Why must we be entrapped by our past?

Why is it that I can understand why the boy says that he needs a bit more space and yet my mind refuses to let him have it?

We had our first real relationship talk over the weekend. It was a very good talk, I think. For as much as I have on my mind about various things that I've mentioned recently, he has a lot on his mind too. He needs to figure out whether he's staying in his job and, if not, what he's doing. We'd fallen into a very comfortable pattern that meant that we were spending virtually every night together, which meant that although we were spending a lot of time together, we were both ignoring or procrastinating putting effort into other things that really ought to have been more focused upon.

He needs space to figure things out. I need space to figure things out. All this means is that we need to spend a little less time together. This isn't a bad thing. He has become almost my entire social life because of the hours that I've been working. That's not good.

We had an impromptu period of more space when he was sick for a few days last week and I didn't see him. It really, really bothered me. More than it ought to have. A lot more than it ought to have. I started thinking all sorts of irrational things. Like he's not really sick; he hates me; he never wants to see me. I figured I'd done something but couldn't come up with anything. We weren't talking very much while he was sick (not surprisingly--he was sick after all) and my mind kept leaping to the conclusion that our relationship was over.

For no reason.

Until it finally occurred to me where these ridiculous insecurities were coming from. Those of you who know me well will remember the relationship I was in that ended almost four years ago. When the guy I was seeing just walked away to start seeing someone new after I had bent over backwards to try to make things work.

There's absolutely no reason to think that the current boy might be about to do this. None. He's not one to play games, as far as I can tell. He's not going to tell me that he needs space and then walk away. The need for space doesn't even have anything to do with us. It's because he needs his own time to focus on what he's doing with his life. Which is the same reason that I need space.

Granted, the end result of all this thinking might impact our relationship. I can't speak for him, but I know that my thinking leads towards my leaving Portland sooner rather than later. That's one of the possible outcomes of his thinking too. If things are meant to work out longer term, maybe our thinking will coincide on this. Or not. There are so many variables and decisions between now and the end result that it's hardly worth worrying about, right? Which isn't to say that it wouldn't be at the back of my mind even absent all this other fretting. That would only be normal. It's all this other fretting that's bothering me.

This boy is not that boy. Why does that emotional scar have to manifest itself now? Why am I able to fully agree to both of us needing space to work our shit out and yet simultaneously think that this is the end of the relationship? We both need to figure our shit out if we're to move forward in the relationship, because we have to figure our shit out individually to move on with out individual lives. And we can't move on with our joint life without being able to move on with our individual lives.

The question of the L word came up in our talk over the weekend and neither of us was quite ready to say it--and that's okay. I think we both agree that it's not something to be taken lightly or something to be thrown around carelessly. Even if I'm not quite ready to say that I love him, I definitely lurv him (apply your own interpretation as to what 'lurv' is versus 'love') a lot. I've come to care for him very deeply over the past three months and want to do whatever I can for him. If he needs more space, I want to give him more space.

Ultimately, it comes down to trust. Why is it that something that happened four years ago is not letting me simply adjust to this new situation? Why won't my mind let me trust him? Especially when I fully agree with the fact that we both need more personal time? I have no logical reason to feel this way. I realise that the heart doesn't work in logic but I hate feeling entrapped by something that happened to me in the past. Yes, that relationship that ended was a big one, one in which I had invested much more time. But, on the other hand, I was younger, too. Not that I'm so old now, but that was my first really long term relationship and it was a relationship I never would have let go on so long were I to find myself in it today. For as much as I was hurt by the way that it ended, I made my fair share of mistakes while I was in it, I'm sure.

It's almost three in the morning and I haven't been able to sleep because this has been hammering away at my head. And before this, it was everything else that I've had on my mind recently, mostly the 'what the fuck am I doing with my life?' bit.

I think I've just about hit rock bottom in my period of angst/depression. The past week or so has been pretty shitty emotionally for me. Sunday after I got home from work, most of the time I was at work yesterday and for the past couple of hours now I've felt about ready to cry. But I haven't been able to let go. I think I've reached the point where the emotional catharsis would be really good for me.

Hopefully I'll get that soon.

*happy banana dance*

I don't think I had mentioned that my tax refunds were a lot larger than I expected them to be. So, I finally went and did it. After only four-and-a-half years of lusting, I've finally gone and bought myself an iPod! 30gb video iPod. Engraved on the back with something only I would find amusing: 'Ceci n'est pas un iPod'. I forgot to put a period at the end, which is going to bother me, but I'll survive. I hate that they've dropped FireWire support in favour of USB only since my computer only has USB 1.1 which means that it's going to take FOREVER to do this first update. Hopefully it'll be done by the time I leave for work later, though.

Wee!

Maybe someday...

...my stupid cat will learn that when she drinks from the faucet she gets water up her nose and then hacks and coughs for ten minutes afterwards.

The weather...

...is fucked. A few days ago it was +7c. Right now it's -7c. I think mother nature is going through menopause.

As for the Daily Show, since Cat asked about it, well, it was fun. A lot of waiting around. Stood outside from 3.30-5. Then sat around inside for close to an hour before they let us in the studio. Then sat around some more (maybe about half an hour) until the warm-up comedian guy came out and blathered on for about 20-30 minutes. He was funny, to be fair. The taping itself took as long as watching the show since they played a song between each segment while they got ready for the next one. It was cool to be there, but it involved so much waiting around and I was so over-tired from not having slept enough that I found it a bit underwhelming.

New York City Boy

This was the original plan: drive down to Connecticut on Sunday, take the train into the City Sunday night in order to have all day Monday before having to get into line for The Daily Show, after the show and dinner take the train back to Connecticut and leave early Tuesday morning to get back here before I had to be at work Tuesday afternoon.

That more or less happened. Except for the driving down part. For those of you not paying attention to the news or what's been going on outside your windows, Sunday was when we got that big huge snow storm, which, actually, wasn't really that bad here in Maine. Still, it was nothing to be driven in. So we didn't drive down, we took the train instead.

The train from Portland to Boston was interesting, since it was the only way to get out of the city that day. There were kids going back to school after their weekend at home, everyone from Portland going to the Celtics game that night, and everyone else who just needed to get out of the city. An interesting mix, you might imagine.

Exemplary of this mix were the two guys who, when asked if they minded where they were sitting, because there was a group of four who wanted to be able to sit together, responded, 'Yup. Wanna be close to the beer and close to the bathroom.' (You'll have to apply what you imagine the Maine accent to be yourself.) They did move in the end though.

I mostly escaped by listening to music and trying to read the paper but the woman in front of us just didn't have an indoor voice that worked so it was difficult to drown out her exclamations of 'It looks like a blizzard out there!' and her various complaints to her husband that the headphone splitter that they had bought for their laptop sucked.

There was nothing open in Boston of course because of the storm and the train ride to New York was relatively uneventful in comparison to all of the colourful characters on the Portland-to-Boston train. The weird thing about it was the fact that both trains were essentially on time. Amtrak is never on time. Ever. Perfect weather? 30 minutes late. Blizzard? 5 minutes late.

What was most amusing about New York was the fact that people just weren't quite sure to do with all this snow. The City got over 2 feet. The boy's friend that we stayed with pointed out that every time there's a big storm, they show people on the news buying shovels. As if they didn't already own one. What about all the times there've been big storms before? Apparently they just abandon the shovels in snow banks or something. 'It'll never snow again! I don't need this!' Sure enough, we did see a few shovels abandoned on the sidewalks of New York as we walked around.

It was Monday. Nothing exciting was open. We walked around and shopped instead. We had to be in line for the Daily Show mid-afternoon so we couldn't really get too ambitious. I was over-tired since I opened on Sunday and then didn't manage to nap on the train, so I was a bit of a zombie all day. Dinner after the show was yummy and I got to see a friend from university whom I haven't seen since she graduated the year before me.

Tuesday, as I predicted, was the longest day ever. I managed to sleep a little bit on the drive back to Maine but was still tired when I got to work just on time at 2. It was decently busy but I figured that it would quiet down for the last hour, it being Valentine's Day and all. And it sort of did until we got a rush for the last half hour and then hadn't been able to lock the doors and people just kept coming in. It actually wasn't so bad and we were able to get people out and lock up by quarter past 8 and then to get out of there by 9.30. It was just that neither I nor the person I was closing with particularly wanted to be there any longer than absolutely necessary.

In the end, it was a good trip. Fun but far too short. Incidentally, it wasn't the shortest trip I've ever taken to New York. In fact, three of the now five times that I've been to New York have been day trips from Massachusetts. Those ones were way, way too short. They were also when I was a kid and found the City to be very overwhelming. Now, I feel like I have a better handle on the City and don't find it so overwhelming...except for Times Square. That still freaks me out a bit.

Relatively painless

Yay! I filled my US taxes! I should have lots of money soon, with which I will purchase new glasses!

I'm still waiting for my paperwork from Canada so I can file those taxes too.... Oh, and did I rant about my bank refusing to cash my refund cheque from my Canadian federal taxes from last year because it's dated more than six months ago--even though I just got it now? My bank are a bunch of poopy-heads, but the nice people at Revenue Canada said that if I just write them a letter, they'll mail me out a new cheque.

I (heart) Canada.

What was not at all relatively painless was the migraine that I developed shortly after getting to work yesterday and that did not subside until about an hour after work. And I had no chance to leave to get anything for it because we were steadily busy thanks to the Sigur Rós concert across the street last night. At least the Sigur Rós fans were nice and articulate and tipped well—and had the common decency not to use us merely for our washroom. Unlike the concert last week that populated downtown with little gothlings who did nothing but buy hot chocolate and not tip and make a mess in the washroom.

Early-mid twenties angst?

I thought angst was over after you weren't a teenager anymore....

I think the epitome of the current angst is the last verse of the first song below. I keep thinking about grad school. I like history. A lot. But I keep questioning whether or not I'll be happy doing that. It's a huge commitment, this academic life. A decade, give or take, of grad school. Then another decade, give or take, before tenure—never mind the issue of trying to get a job somewhere that I'd actually want to live.

And on top of all that, I worry about the state of the world far too much to lock myself away in an ivory tower. Part of me says that I could still very much be involved in trying to change the world as an academic—that's the same part of me that reminds me that I've never really done much to help to change the world in any active sense. But there's another part of me that thinks I really ought to be try to be rather more active in helping to change the world. But the question is in what capacity? And how? Law? Politics? Social services? Ministry?!

(Yes, I just wrote that. Big secret: once upon a time, before I lost my faith in the Catholic church, I thought I maybe wanted to be a priest. Dating a minister has brought back certain of those feelings. I've been thinking a lot, in any case, about starting maybe to go to church again. This is something that I've been thinking about on and off for about a year, ever since my great-grandfather died last March. It was always clear that the Catholic church wouldn't cut it for me and I thought a lot about the Anglican church—what can I say, I'm a ceremony-whore—but it all remains very muddled.)

Suffice it to say, I've a lot on my mind right now. Other than that, things are fantastic. I'll be in Connecticut a week from right now, eagerly awaiting my day in NYC with the boy and his friends to see the DAILY SHOW next Monday!!!

And now, a selection of lyrics from Avenue Q.

What do you do with a B.A. in English?

What do you do with a B.A. in English,
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college and plenty of knowledge,
Have earned me this useless degree.

I can't pay the bills yet,
'Cause I have no skills yet,
The world is a big scary place.

But somehow I can't shake,
The feeling I might make,
A difference,
To the human race.

I wish I could go back to college

KATE MONSTER:
I wish I could go back to college.
Life was so simple back then.

NICKY:
What would I give to go back and live in a dorm with a meal plan again!

PRINCETON:
I wish I could go back to college.
In college you know who you are.
You sit in the quad, and think, "Oh my God!
I am totally gonna go far!"

ALL:
How do I go back to college?
I don't know who I am anymore!

PRINCETON:
I wanna go back to my room and find a message in dry-erase pen on the door!
Ohhh...
I wish I could just drop a class...

NICKY:
Or get into a play...

KATE MONSTER:
Or change my major...

PRINCETON:
Or fuck my T.A.

ALL:
I need an academic advisor to point the way!
We could be...
Sitting in the computer lab,
4 A.M. before the final paper is due,
Cursing the world 'cause I didn't start sooner,
And seeing the rest of the class there, too!

PRINCETON:
I wish I could go back to college!

ALL:
How do I go back to college?!
Ahhhh...

PRINCETON:
I wish I had taken more pictures.

NICKY:
But if I were to go back to college,
Think what a loser I'd be-
I'd walk through the quad,
And think "Oh my God..."

ALL:
"These kids are so much younger than me."

For Now

PRINCETON:
Why does everything have to be so hard?

GARY COLEMAN:
Maybe you'll never find your purpose.

CHRISTMAS EVE:
Lots of people don't.

PRINCETON:
But then- I don't know why I'm even alive!

KATE MONSTER:
Well, who does, really?
Everyone's a little bit unsatisfied.

BRIAN:
Everyone goes 'round a little empty inside.

GARY COLEMAN:
Take a breath,
Look around,

BRIAN:
Swallow your pride,

KATE MONSTER:
For now...

BRIAN, KATE, GARY, CHRISTMAS EVE:
For now...

NICKY:
Nothing lasts,

ROD:
Life goes on,

NICKY:
Full of surprises.

ROD:
You'll be faced with problems of all shapes and sizes.

CHRISTMAS EVE:
You're going to have to make a few compromises...
For now...

TREKKIE MONSTER:
For now...

ALL:
But only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now!

LUCY:
For now we're healthy.

BRIAN:
For now we're employed.

BAD IDEA BEARS:
For now we're happy...

KATE MONSTER:
If not overjoyed.

PRINCETON:
And we'll accept the things we cannot avoid, for now...

GARY COLEMAN:
For now...

TREKKIE MONSTER:
For now...

KATE MONSTER:
For now...

ALL:
But only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now! (For now)
Only for now!

Only for now!
(For now there's life!)
Only for now!
(For now there's love!)
Only for now!
(For now there's work!)
For now there's happiness!
But only for now!
(For now discomfort!)
Only for now!
(For now there's friendship!)
Only for now (For now!)
Only for now!

Only for now! (Sex!)
Is only for now! (Your hair!)
Is only for now! (George Bush!)
Is only for now!

Don't stress,
Relax,
Let life roll off your backs
Except for death and paying taxes,
Everything in life is only for now!

NICKY:
Each time you smile...

ALL:
...Only for now

KATE MONSTER:
It'll only last a while.

ALL:
...Only for now

PRINCETON:
Life may be scary...

ALL:
...Only for now
But it's only temporary

Ba-dum ba-dum
Ba-dum ba-dum
Ba dum ba-dum
Ba-da da da da
ba-da da-da da da-da
Ba-dum ba-da, ba-dum ba-da
ohhhh-

PRINCETON:
Everything in life is only for now.

The dangers of the internet

The internet allows any idiot teenager in any wood-panneled basement in America with access to a digital movie camera to film himself and his two friends dancing around in g-strings, performing a choreographed act to the Village People's 'YMCA'.

He and his two *cough cough* 'not gay' *cough cough* friends.

What I want to know is how these kids will explain this to their parents if they somehow find it. And what they'll think when years down the road, they rediscover this little nugget of teenage stupidity.

I also want to know how long it is before one of them gets offered a Bel-Ami contract.

Podcast Obsession

And I don't even have an iPod!

I currently have 9.4 hours of unlistened-to podcasts sitting in iTunes right now. And I keep adding more and more! It's madness, I tell you!

I think that the whole idea of podcasting is really great, especially because it means that I can listen to things that I would normally want to listen to whenever I have time to actually listen to them. I wish other things would have podcasts, like Prairie Home Companion, even though there is a streaming archive online. That's just laziness, I guess. It's not really that much more difficult to go to the Prairie Home Companion website and listen to the archived show.

Admittedly, I haven't really ventured out into the underbelly of podcasting. All of the podcasts that I'm subscribed to are from traditional media outlets (albeit ones like the BBC and NPR and CBC). I've sampled a few independent podcasts but the ones that I've tried have just been general crap. I don't have time for that. I figure if there's something that I need to hear, it will float my way through cyberspace and I'll subscribe to it. I'm not going to go looking for it.

Ready for the rundown?

PBS's American Experience podcast, which basically gives little teasers for upcoming shows but are full enough to be self-contained.

Canadian Voices. I've just subscribed to this one, which only just started and is to be a 15-part series of programmes featuring such Canadians as Jane Jacobs, David Suzuki, Roméo Dallaire, etc. The first episode is with Stephen Lewis, UN Special Envoy for Hiv/Aids in Africa and former Canadian Ambassador to the UN, speaking on the Hiv/Aids pandemic in Africa.

CBC Radio 3's podcast. Another I've only just subscribed to. A new music programme.

Discovery Channel Podcasts. These ones are about half-an-hour and I hope that they don't all use the same narrator as the first one I listened to because if they do then I'll get annoyed really quickly. Pop science stuff basically.

In Our Time from BBC Radio 4. It's an idea talk show, basically. Always very well-qualified guests and always very interesting topics. I listened to a programme on relativism the other day and have two in queue--one on 17th century print culture and another on the Abbasid Caliphs.

La Première à la carte. This from Radio-Canada. It's essentially like NPR's Story of the Day, which I'm also subscribed to, but from Radio-Canada and featuring a half-hour of stories instead of just one story.

Nova and Nova scienceNOW. I'm not really clear what the exact difference between these two is other than the fact that scienceNOW seems to be much more infrequent than Nova. scienceNOW bills itself as 'Science Candy' whereas Nova is 'Short audio stories from the world of science.'

NPR's All Songs Considered. NPR's new music podcast.

NPR's Story of the day. Self-explanitory, I hope.

On the Media. Another NPR podcast. I don't think this show gets airtime on MPBN. It's produced out of New York and is a weekly hour-long show about, not surprisingly, the media.

Smart City. Yet another NPR podcast. I know this one isn't on MPBN. It's another I've only just subscribed to. It's basically an urban affairs/development/life/living/etc show. Listened to one episode so far and was quite pleased.

Finally, but certainly not least, The Onion Radio News. Brief audio stories from the Onion--every day! It rocks!

*yawn*

I've been up since 20 past six this morning. Because work phoned. Because I brought Betty home again.

I think it's naptime now.

Luckily, I was at the boy's place, which is just around the corner from work, as opposed to home which is 20 minutes from work. Still, I couldn't get back to sleep.

I have to go buy more chocolate for my cake. But then I'm napping. Mmm. Chocolate. Nap. Cake- and banana-bread making. Salmon for dinner. Cake for dessert.

American bagels have no character.

I realised this yesterday while I was eating my morning bagel. Since I’ve moved back to the states, I feel the need to slather my bagel with cream cheese—the more the better, to the point that the bagel becomes merely a carrier for the cream cheese. Any bagel-ness that might be there is completely lost under the taste of the cream cheese.

When I lived in Montréal, I almost never put cream cheese on my bagels. Usually just some butter or a touch of jam. But I was also perfectly happy just eating them unadorned, just the way they were created. But maybe that’s because they had flavour; they had character; they could stand on their own.

Just a thought.

Life in the Land of Port this fourth week of 2006 has been good. All four weeks of 2006 have been good. Except for that cold the second week—although that was chased away by a heavy dose of Maker’s Mark at the suggestion of my bartender. She’s good like that.

UPS is still holding the boy’s birthday gift hostage—I think we’ll get it tomorrow or Saturday, since I finally just told them to hold it at the distribution centre for me to come pick up. Of course, it’s all the way the hell out in South Portland (or So Po as it’s called locally), which means I need a car to get there. Damn poor public transit system. It’s also open only 12-6, which gives me precious little time to get there before work, even if I were able to get there on public transit. Not that I’ve really looked into getting there on the bus, but Portland doesn’t have anything like Montréal’s Tous Azimuts and, to compound the difficulty, there is the Portland ‘Metro’ bus service as well as the South Portland bus service, which are completely separate entities. You can get a Portland bus to South Portland and a South Portland bus to Portland. But it’s like the STM versus the South Shore bus (the STL [Société de Transport de Longueuil]? or is it STRSM [Société de Transport de la Rive Sud de Montréal]? I never had to know, so I’m not sure. I guess it must be some variation on the second one, since STL is the Laval bus service, I think. Enough of that tangent. I’m writing this offline so I can’t just look it up.)

In any event, he will either tomorrow or Saturday finally have his birthday gift. Damn UPS. Supposedly they made two delivery attempts—but didn’t leave me a notice either time. When I phoned to try to change the delivery to one that didn’t need a signature, they wouldn’t let me. Stupid UPS.

I, of course, have not been keeping up with my schedule that I set out for myself at the beginning of the year to use my mornings effectively (although I’ve been good this morning) but I’m working on it. I’m almost through the first book on my list (The Name of War: King Philip’s War and the Origins of American Identity by Jill Lepore)—hopefully I’ll be done with it by the end of the weekend—and I’m not sure what I’ll tackle next.

Work is going well. The other shift lead has been named manager, which I think is a quite good thing. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it’s probably better for me not to be manager right now. Even if I do reapply for grad school in the fall, I won’t be leaving for another year after that. All the same, I probably should stay focused on what I need to do for myself right now rather than getting even more wrapped up in this job. In other words, I’m already overly committed to this job—to the point where I have a tendency to jump in and help out when they need the help and it’s my day off and I just happen to have stopped in for a cup of coffee. This isn’t a bad thing, of course, but I need to figure out what the hell I want to do with my life since I know that this isn’t it.

Montréal, c'est ta cuisine qui me manque.

Basha.
Patati-Patata.
La Chilenita.
La Belle's poutine.
Schwartz's.
Toi, Moi et Café's snacks.
Lattes from Café Vasco de Gama (...only sometimes--I make enough of them every day myself, but I had a conversation tonight with a customer about Illy coffee).
Dim sum at that place whose name I can never remember.
99¢ pizza.
Euro-Deli.
Au Pied de Cochon (mmm...I could go for duck-in-a-can again).
Berlin.
That ice cream place--Scoops? Licks? I forget it's name. The one on St-Laurent and, um...near the Pizza Madonna.
La Merveille du Vietnam's spring roll subs (or whatever they're called now...Yo-Ya or something?).
Alto's.

And whatever else I've forgotten....feel free to chime in on things you miss or that I may have forgotten.

Update: How could I forget...?
Pita Pit.
Bagels, etc.
Place Milton.
FAIRMOUNT BAGELS!

Bush Warming Up to Canada's Next PM - Yahoo! News

'We are glad to see that Canadians have values-voters too,' said Bob Morrison of the Family Research Council, a Washington-based group opposed to abortion and gay marriage. 'We can be optimistic about the end of the social engineering as driven by the Martin government.'

Why can't the freaks just go away?

(Stole the link from Cat's blog.)

I broke it...

The espresso grinder, that is. I was cleaning it last night and managed to get some brush bristles stuck in the grinder--despite the fact that I had already turned it off (the blades were still spinning, granted).

And I brought Betty Boop home yet again last night. She's totally the store bicycle.

I'm sure that makes no sense.

We have one of our sets of internal keys on a Betty Boop keychain and she often disappears over night because someone forgets that she's in her pocket. It's a running joke about who Betty has gone home with.

She's been home with me two nights in a row now. Rrrrow!

It's the boy's birthday this weekend. Saturday. 2-9. I'm getting him this. I think he'll like it. Because he's like that. And so am I. Which is why I like him.

Cue the heavenly chorus...

La Meglio Gioventù (The Best of Youth) is FINALLY being released on DVD in North America! At the beginning of next month!

Blech

I've been getting sick all week. To my credit, I've been sucking down echinacea tea since Monday. This morning, I woke up feeling more or less okay except for the fact that my tonsils are rather swollen. I hate being sick like this. Feel fine, swollen tonsils. My glands aren't swollen, at least, which means that it's very likely not strep throat, something my body just seems to love to get at least once or twice a year.

Just thought I'd share.

Also, has anyone else noticed that Alito doesn't actually answer most of the questions that he has been asked? And that the Republican members of the Committee tend to ask him things like, Do you think that TV cameras ought to be allowed in the Supreme Court? While the Democrats are asking him things like, Why did you specifically list CAP on your job application in 1985 if you now claim that you have no strong recollection of the organisation at all?

I'm not surprised, exactly, but still.

Also, has anyone else seen the new Liberal Party campaign ads? http://www.liberal.ca/multimedia_e.aspx

It's 12 January...

...and it's pissing rain and thundering. What the fuck?

Re-thinking thoughts on the new year

I was voted 'Most Likely to Succeed' by my high school class, along with the girl who was our valedictorian. I've always felt very strange about that. What kind of success are we talking about here? Fabulous wealth and celebrity? Okay. None of us would mind that. But what about more simple success? What about just being happy where we are in the world? The past years in Montréal have been the first time that I've been able to say that I was truly happy with where I was in the world.

My one personal wish for 2005 is that I'll be able to say the same a year from now, wherever I might be as 2006 begins.

I wrote that a little over a year ago.

While I am not thrilled with where I am in the world right now, I am certainly satisfied if not generally happy. Things could be rather worse. Portland isn't so bad. I have a decent job that I enjoy. I'm head-over-heels in lurv (not love just yet, mind you) with a wonderful man. At the end of the day, I really can't complain about what I've done and what I will do the next day.

So, I think that I was able to fulfil my wish for 2005. We'll see if 2006 can do the same.

Minor changes

Still no new template. Maybe I'll just change the colour?

Moved the links down. Cut a few out. Updated one.

Nothing too exciting.

Garrison Keillor...

...is a master storyteller and I will be very, very sad when he's no longer around.

(Listening to the News from Lake Wobegon, of course, where all the women are strong, the men are good looking and the children are above average.)

Progress

I'm down to 14 unread messages in my Inbox. This is huge progress for me. Six of them require big long responses to be written. Most of those are from months ago. I'm a horrible person. If it's any indication, I still haven't updated Monkey's new address from when she moved, which was rather a long time ago....

Hello, 2006

2005 was a big year. I finally graduated university. I reluctantly left Montréal, a city that had very much become home over my five years there. I moved to Maine, of all places, a state with a population a mere third of that of the city which I left in June. Portland itself has only slightly over a sixth the population of Montréal.

My first six months here have not been all that bad. Reconnecting with my roommate, an old friend from high school, has been wonderful. Getting thrown straight into her mix of friends has been great and meeting scores of new people on my own has been fun. True, I certainly miss the gang in Montréal, but a lot of people had already moved on and nothing gets to stay in stasis forever. Besides, thanks to blogs and email and text messages and such, we can all stay in touch. It's not the same as being able to ring someone up to go for a pint at Reservoir, but it has to count for something.

The first half of the year was a whirlwind of finishing my last semester, dealing with stupid family drama surrounding my great-grandfather's death, and then leaving Montréal. I feel no shame in admitting that I cried rather a lot when I left. That line from the Les Respectables song still rings in my ears from time to time, when I doubt having left at all: 'Peut-être qu'il faut s'enfuir loin de son passé, toujours partir pour mieux se retrouver.'

I miss seeing and hearing and using French on a regular basis. I actually find myself slipping sometimes and throwing in French phrases here and there. The difference here, of course, is that no one knows what the hell I'm saying.

On the whole, though, Portland has been good to me. True, it is painfully small at times. I very much miss things like Cinéma du Parc and Ex-centris. And Vieille Europe. And Reservoir. And good public transit. And loonies and twonies. And poutine. And... so many things.

Still, I knew Portland was no Montréal. I knew it would even be close or, indeed, anything like a smaller version of it. In fact, I knew it would pretty much be entirely different. It's true, everyone here wears stuff from L. L. Bean. And the general fashion sense is rather different than that of Montréal. It's not bad, per se, just different. There are always those people that you wish you could just pull into a clothing store--almost any clothing store--and redress them. But there were those people in Montréal, too, just far fewer of them.

If I was less than satisfied with my first job here (washing dishes), it was only ever meant to be temporary, and despite the frustrations that I've experienced with the coffee shop where I am now, it has on the whole been a very rewarding and challenging experience. And, with things moving in the direction that they are now, I'll be getting some added responsibilities and thus added challenge that will keep things interesting. It's not nuclear physics to be sure, but it's about where I'd like to be right now with work. It pays the bills, it gives me some money to enjoy myself (some more couldn't hurt) and I generally feel like I've done good at the end of the day.

Then, of course, there are the boys. To be fair, Portland has not skimped on me in that department either. Even if the paramedic decided to have a mid-life crisis, we've become good friends now and that's probably the important thing in the end. Things with the current boy, the minister, continue to go well. We've not quite made it to two months but things show no sign of getting any worse--only better. So far as I can tell, he is as smitten with me as I am with him, which certainly cannot be a bad thing. I had a bizarre dream about getting engaged to him last night--bizarre because it involved seeking approval from Queen Anne, among other things. Also bizarre for the very fact that it involved an engagement. I blame it on the fact that engagements seem to be popping up all over my life recently. Six weeks into this--and it's hard to believe that it's only been that long--I'm certainly not about to suggest we spend the rest of our lives together. You all know that I'm far to practical to go down that particular crazy path so soon. Still, it's probably a sign of just how smitten I am that although I acknowledge that it was a bizarre dream, it still gave me a vague warm fuzzy feeling all the same.

As for the New Year, my only real resolution is the same one that I make every year and every year fail to keep: floss more. I'd also like, as I think I mentioned previously, to read the paper the day that it's published as well as to really get cracking on my planned pre-grad school reading list. I have 9 months, give or take, to gestate this grad school idea, assuming that I stick with my original plan. The past six months have been spent in a sort of intellectual limbo, which is fine, but I think that I really need to get my brain going again. Besides, limbo is on its way out, according to the Catholic Church, and I certainly wouldn't want to find myself stuck somewhere that no longer exists.

And so, as I scan the books on my shelf, I realise that I have a number of things that I really ought to finish reading. Many of which have been unfinished for over a year now. Still, it was always difficult to keep up when I was in school full time--these are all, in fact, books that I started reading for classes and just never finished. David Hancock's Citizens of the World: London Merchants and the Integration of the British Atlantic Community, 1735-1785; Joyce Chaplin's Subject Matter: Technology, the Body and Science on the Anglo-American Frontier, 1500-1676; Jill Lepore's The Name of War: King Philip's War and the Origins of American Identity; Carolyn Merchant's Ecological Revolutions: Nature, Gender and Science in New England; Tulio Halperin Donghi's The Contemporary History of Latin America; Edward Said's Orientalism; J.R. McNeil's Something New Under the Sun; Michel Foucault's Discipline and Punish; Jane Jacobs's The Death and Life of Great American Cities.

And these are just the titles that I've already begun reading. Never mind the ones on my shelf that I haven't even cracked open yet.

I have my work cut out for me. Starting with this month, I'm closing five days a week at work. Which means that I have all morning to get stuff done. I really must do my best not to fritter away my mornings but to actually use them to their fullest. Up by 8 I think is reasonable. No more than an hour for emailing and blog reading. Then go to get the paper by 9. Back for coffee and breakfast. The paper, realistically, should take an hour or two. Which brings me to 11. Shower, think about making a lunch large enough to have leftovers to bring to work. And I don't have to leave for work until 1.30, which means that I should be able to get in an hour of academic-type reading before heading off to work. That all seems very reasonable to me. Let's see if I can actually stick to it.