Tuesday, August 31, 2004

...we're gonna play...

I don't think this is a good sign. What is this, a family outing? By that I mean group - but which is not personal, not individual, not... appropriate. I am concerned.

Alternately, I am disappointed. Shirk behind the waitress's skirts, avoid talking about awkward Friday - whatever, whatever. And p.s.? This is NOT okay.

...swing...

tie me to a deeper moment
the fast paced song that too soon ends
a hand that even now descends
and leaves my skin
but leaves therein
a memory, a mark - footprint in wet cement

welcome to this deeper moment
deeper than an idle dance
baby, should i take this chance?
an errant kiss
a hit or miss
i wonder should i leave you there - insidious intent


Yesterday was absent. Absent sanity, absent work ethic, absent logic and security and knowledge and forebearance.

I spent a total of 11 hours at the office yesterday. For the first 8, I was scattered and dim, making mistakes, not concentrating, with this knot in my stomach that only began to go away after I spent 36 minutes (36 work minutes) on the phone with Tara. A knot that came back with a vengeance circa 7:45 when my cell phone rang and I saw the name flashing by the caller I.D.

Dalal: Maybe it's him!
Me: It's him.. (dropping everything and going outside).

The new developments:
- going out tonight
- don't know what to wear
- nervous like anything
- i need to be calm
- chill
- thrill
- will
- i will, i promise

Monday, August 30, 2004

...don't want to ride upon your tilt-a-whirls...

I think I may have to go to every single show that Matthew Barber has in Toronto from now on. I think it must be done this way. He is something of beautiful - and wants to "die on the cross for your sins, so that your soul can be saved". Beautiful.

What am I going to when Bridget goes back to Halifax on Tuesday? I need Bridget, you do NOT understand. Who is going to cool-ify me on an every day business. Through whose musician-kissing, late-night partying life will I vicariously live?

She says to live in a way that others will want to live vicariously through me. Well, I suppose I could do that... new plan: from now on I will be the girl who "gets up to no good". My weekend was a great start to that I guess. Maybe this is a plan.

Inna sent me a "just because" card. I enjoyed it. Thank you darling.

JANET IS BACK! She came over last night, there were screams, and hugs, and delicious dinner that we MADE and five hours of catching up. A lot happens in four months. She has ideas already, I could see the wheels turning in her artist's mind, decorating our place then and there. I'm going to let her go to it. The best thing about having an artist as a good friend and housemate (aside from the fact that she will make me a painting for my room) is that once she's done, our pad will be the coolest place in the world.

In something completely petty, I found out that Reb N. and the other girlies got an awesome place near Dundas, two floors. It will probably want to become known as the "coolest" of the off-campus houses of people we know. This will not be permitted. Yes?

Umm... what else can I tell you that you would want to know? I'm going to India next summer. It was supposed to be Kenya, but suddenly became India. Maybe we can do both. Hmm... we must sit down and discuss.

Also - I called last night, around 9:30. After a very large glass of wine and another smaller glass of Riesling icewine. Tara was right, it did help. I was quite calm and mellow. I could have fallen asleep right there at the phone. But I didn't. Left a message and now... we wait.


Sunday, August 29, 2004

...i'm not impressed with your big screen eyes...

I was being magnanamous. I was being kind/generous something to that effect. A word I can spell properly, but means the same.

Tara: "Have you told Melissa yet?" The crucial point. No, I hadn't told Melissa yet. Going to Olivia's wedding with the Drew, I figured I would give her a little time to have an amazing time before wailing into her with the latest in a string of stupid mistakes for her to advise me through.

Do you understand that her advice was singularly completely comforting and completely LOGICAL? It still requires me to get past this barrier of nerves (the cure to which Tara found: "throw back a couple of drinks first"), but for the most part, completely amazing advice. I said I would at 6pm, but it's past that and I still haven't. But soon children, soon. Promise.

...i thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag...

I am in love with my room, and this house, and this street and the people I meet.

I remember when Webgard almost had Buckingham Palace. This is how I feel, this is my Buckingham Palace.

Today is the 29th. Janet should have arrived yesterday. So I am going to go call her right now because I have been Janet-deprived all summer and this does not work for me. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm going to kidnap her under the pretense of dog sitting and she and I and my Cheryl-ita will have a gossip-filled girlfest today.

Bye lovelies, don't do anything I wouldn't do.

PS: There is a phone call that will be made at 6pm. Because I have permission to do so, and a virtual guidebook to follow from Inna and Rachel, so hopefully I will not mess up. It could happen, but we hope it won't.

Saturday, August 28, 2004

...the game...

I'd love to know what brilliant social commentator sat down to write the Rules of Relating 101.

Back in sometime-in-May, I was supposed to call Steve. Got scared and didn't end up doing so. By the time Melissa and Tara yelled at me about it, it was past the "when you can call" date, ie: about three weeks.

Asks Kristen, why the rules? Who says you can't call past that date? She's going to make up her own rules, she says.

I respect her for it - the only problem I see is that if she plays by her own rules, she'll be playing a game no one else is. Because everyone else will still be on the same page they were on before, and Kristen in her avant-gardeness will be three chapters ahead.

This time, I'm (still playing by the rules) going to call within the next week. Tara is discouraging me in her head I think, she doesn't think it's a good idea I am sure. But there's something in my gut which is telling me to do this, that he's a good guy, give it a shot I have nothing to lose. Naturally I generally tend to be wrong about these things, but I would rather take the chance than always wonder if I missed it someways back.

Of course there is always the probability I will develop phone nerves and not go through with it. So, to prevent that happening I am going to drink three out of seven days this week, in the hopes that on one of those nights I will have become sufficiently lacking of inhibition to grow a pair, and call.

I think I'm going shopping again tomorrow. I think the mood will call for vintage.

...tap on my window, knock on my door...

Everytime the phone rings, I am disappointed. Because as much as I love hearing from Rachel and Cheryl and Janie, they are not who I keep hoping will call. On that front, the phone has been silent all day. And ps: he is a jerk for not calling.

I bought a cute t-shirt, and earrings and a bracelet today, and I still feel kind of bummy. I would like to drink tonight but we see what I get up to when I drink, so probably not the best idea.

...merde...

I had a rant earlier about Fatal Attraction and stupid boys. I took it off because I figured why rant about small stuff when you can about the stuff that actually matters.

Tonight at Lee's I kissed a guy I really really like on the dance floor. When he was really really drunk. And now I feel like absolute shit about myself and so so dumb, because I don't want Drunk Steve to be the one that likes me, I want Steve Steve.

The hours between now and whenever Tara calls me tomorrow seem incredibly long right now.

PS: Before we went to Lee's tonight, Tara warned me that he is seeing someone right now. If I was the "other girl" tonight, I will feel even more horrible. As it is, I stopped at 7/11 on the way home and bought a pack. First one since April, but it was needed for tonight. In the morning, it is thrown out.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

...hoping i would see the world with both my eyes...

So apparently my vision is worse than I thought. We've been having trouble with the seeing, you see, and so a return was made to the Dr. Casey, he of the gorgeousness and charisma. I used to be a patient of his until moving to Thornhill, at which point we transferred to some nobody here. When he was proven inept, we trekked downtown, now more convenient due to my living there.

The new developments:

i) I am not only quite myopic, but I have astigmatism (sp?) and something else that means I have sucky vision.
ii) I'm partially colourblind, and have a distinguishing between colours ability of somewhere around 40%.
iii) I had been wearing the wrong size lenses. The ones Thornhill-man gave me were 4 points to large. Small pupils. You know.

An interesting theory that Dr. Casey put forth that we are testing - possibly the reason I always have trouble seeing street signs and things clearly is not necessarily because it is too far away, but maybe I am not distinguishing the colours well! Excellent - a solid-proof excuse to avoid driving.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

...didn't have a camera by my side this time...

i) You people wound me. Comments have been sorely lacking. I say that I write this shit for myself, but it's all a lie. A horribly convoluted one. Really, I'm just an attention whore and want your comments. By which I mean your hearts and minds and you know, your souls and stuff - all conveniently packaged in your brief words. Ignore me. I'm tired and nonsensical at the moment.

ii) My ex-boyfriend tried to pick up Bridget on the subway. I don't think he realized (what am I saying, of course he didn't, how could he) that she was one of my closest friends. Or that his reputation preceded him. Or that she would get off the train later shaking her head and laughing and would relate the tale to me over chocolate peanut butter milkshakes. "Hey beautiful", he said in a note he gave her as he exited stage left, "I think you're gorgeous. Give me a call".

iii) There is a chance I will never live down the shame of the following exchange.

Me: Bartek you are so inept.
Bartek: I don't think so - I think your ineptness is rubbing off on me.
Me: What are you talking about? I'm very... ept.

Witness Aimable and Bartek breaking into simultaneous laughter.

iv) There are people who always make you feel good by virtue of being brilliant and charismatic and funny and kind - and I'm having a drink with one of them next week. Surprises of surprises, they are in Toronto as we speak.

That last bit rhymed. Did you catch that? Ngyehhg... I need to go to bed now. Such an eloquent ending, I know.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

...run deep...

love won't accept being left behind
or being made as background, won't rescind
the hold it has on me

rhinestone shirt barely over my head
tea not finished, poured down the sink instead.
whirling, in haste to

leave the house by ten past eight
and get a haircut on the way
to work, and then to

have a cup of coffee on a sunlit patio
hoping that to do this will make me forget i know
the feel of your touch on my shoulder
as you walk past, turning once to look over
at me and smile

love won't settle with a low growl at my feet
won't let me be intrigued by others that i meet
jumps up around my ankles

as if to tell me not to turn my head
to more suitable companions instead.
you know i couldn't,

know that when mid-afternoon walking
shoulders, sides, calf muscles brushing
i stop leaving you behind
and accept that love will not rescind
the hold it has on me

...bismillah...

Read. This.

For all who never believed me about Freddie Mercury's Iranian ancestry.

Cheers.

...brought me back to life...

My "Room for Squares" CD is skipping halfway through 3x5. This is a problem. Solutions? Please?

I mean if it was going to skip at all, why couldn't it be during a pointless song like "City Love"? We cannot LIVE without 3x5.


Monday, August 23, 2004

...fierce battles for my being...

Going through the photo archives at work, the pictures in the Sierra Leone file scare me. In the midst of pictures of beautiful children with eyes so dark like pools of liquid chocolate, of the shiny new school buildings with courtyards and sturdy brick, of teachers and amputee students living, surviving and finding hope - in the midst of all these pictures, there is a picture of an axe, haphazardly constructed from a rusty pipe and makeshift blade (still sharp enough to cut through bone), tossed carelessly on the ground.

The first couple of times I came across this picture, I didn't realize why it was there, or what significance it held for Sierra Leone.

Today, when I saw it for the third time, the words of Jonathan White from his seminar on War Affected Children two weeks ago came rushing back at me and it hit me like a blow to the face.

"The civil war in Sierra Leone was one of the bloodiest, cruelest and most devastating in history. It was a war fought with axes and machetes, paid for by diamonds and blood".

Then I thought of Mariatu, and I shivered because she is beautiful and strong and survived it, and we are all so small in the face of her courage.

...is it the way the sun hits my face?...

Maybe we do disappear sometimes. Maybe more than sometimes, though you wouldn't be able to say "quite often" just yet. That is still no reason to initiate joking jibe gossip implying things that are not true.

They could become true so easily though, and J is right in that I can handle it. She was just joking. I am not. I could handle it, if he would entertain the possibility, and just THINK about it.

I'm not in any rush. I know what I want this time, and it seems I don't have a problem waiting for it. I say that but of course I wouldn't mind if he stepped it up a little bit. Or at all, because I really don't want to be the one doing all the stepping. Hard on the feet. You know.

It's alright though because I will rest my feet tomorrow night when we go to see Shakespeare in the Park.

Sunday, August 22, 2004

...there is a love in me raging...

About 30 seconds into the aerial trapeze, I swear I stopped breathing and didn't start again until all 6 artists were back safely on the ground.

When the girl in blue had all of 5 hula hoops around her, spinning and curving and swivelling them in different directions, different speeds, my heart skipped a beat. Several of them.

The little boy with the fuzzy hat who was a recurring character and token artist had me melting and swooning over him.

Then there was the sheer beauty of the gymnast on the two metal stands, who had such fine smooth lines and blurred all the rules of how a body should move and what positions possible to hold.

Do you know I bought my tickets to Alegria back in December? But oh, it was such a worthy thing to wait for. And a new show is coming next year!

After the performance, Afsi took us to Marche for dinner and on the way to our table I passed by another that was familiar to me, times long past. There was a couple sitting there, smiling and laughing. I wished them luck.


Saturday, August 21, 2004

...oh yeah, the grass is green...

I am thrilled because I didn't spend my Friday night searching random people's names on Google because I am a boor with no life.

Hah.

Oh, I am so petty...

But seriously, dude that is so pathetic.


...still waters run deep...

Still waters run deep
Just remember when we lie to each other
No one wins and losers weep
Reflection will show
This connection we can lean on each other
This is all we need to know

Now I admit I've been a fool sometimes
I believe I may be losing you
It's now or never, we talk before a tear is shed
Under your spell and over my head
You took me in your arms and you told me
We don't need to worry, but you
You never say you're sorry

Keep this love alive for us, it's all I feel
How can we survive if we change what is real

Still waters run deep
Just remember when we lie to each other
No one wins and losers weep
Deception will show
It's a struggle when you're starved for affection
This is all we need to know

I see the angel and the devil in your heart
I confess, either one is my addiction
And where you're leading me I don't have the will to fight
Out of the darkness and into the light
But living in your arms, I can take it
Please don't make me shiver
I know together we deliver

Let the gods decide who finds the sweetest thrill
Who can justify the truth?
I love you still

Still waters run deep
Just remember when we lie to each other
No one wins and losers weep
Deception will show
It's a struggle when you're starved for affection
This is all we need

Don't let him get too close to you
You've got a stranger on your mind
The dream is free
I know I'm only human if I cry
Or maybe we should kiss and say goodbye

Still waters run deep
Just remember when we lie to each other
No one wins and losers weep
Deception will show
It's a struggle when you're starved for affection
This is all we need to know

Still waters run deep
Just remember when we lie to each other
No one wins and losers weep
Reflection will show
This connection we can lean on each other
This is all we need

Disclaimer: I didn't, as Inna thinks, write this. It's a Beegees song lyric, that was quoted to me on Friday night. And I didn't understand, and I still don't. When have I ever?

...strength to force the moment to its crisis...

Endless comedy, it goes on, it goes on... An interesting night all around.

Once upon a time I thought I knew things. And people, the clutch point. I once thought I was good at knowing people.

An arm chair at the Wick and him next to me - the hands that wrapped a lanyard around his and mine; the leg that brushed against mine, rhythmic caress, again and again; the one who speaks of half-love, and falling in love but in the end just plays love. Who plays at being mine, but isn't.

And another who is, could be, if I let him be - but is not wanted, and is not supposed to be.

My head hurts. It's full of drama (other peoples for once) and I am so tired.


Friday, August 20, 2004

...such a good good story to tell...

I need money. Good, so this year will be the year that I become a hermit and forgo all manner of going out.

If you are my friends, you will not invite me to anyplace that involves money. No dinners, no movies, no clubs (unless it's the dance cave or a place with no cover), no bars, none of that bullshit.

Because some stupid corporate asswipe at the bursary/scholarship board decided to reassess my case and said I don't need as much funds anymore and cut my scholarship money in half. Because the year that I move out and am on my own and my parents have *another* university bound child to support, THAT's the year I no longer need money, right? Right.

There will be appeals, oh yes there will be.

I'm generally pissed off today - but there are three bright points to even a rainy dark day like this one.

i) Family-style dinner last night with Martha, JC and my Rach.
ii) Cheryl's thang tonight at the Wicks.
iii) Arms suddenly coming around me from behind in such the nice bearhug, spontaneous, and the trace of cologne smell left behind on my shirt.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

...just you and the universe judging each other...

There's a two-inch expanse of window visible between the bottom of my roman shades and my desktop. A small slit through which I watch the outside, but reinforcing the tunnel vision of my sight slash insight; no broad concepts, no conceptualization in sight.

Sometimes I think I am missing something really obvious. Something really important?

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

...the green centre of the day...

i) I left the office around 9 tonight, and walked in the general direction of my house with Lloyd. Talked about a myriad of things, not the least of which is how I feel about working here this summer, taking into account the fact that I have been more unhappy than happy at times, and the possibility that I may start expanding a little outside of the fold in the year to come. Not moving on, but transitioning.

Naturally, we also talked about the fact that he needs a woman.

ii) A homeless man at Nathan Phillips Square told Julia she has bedroom eyes.

iii) M: So I know I shouldn't ask this, it's against all the guy rules - but have you completely written me off as dating material?
Me (honestly): No I haven't written you off. But I have written off all serious dating currently.
M: Fair enough. I can accept that for the moment.

iv) Arrived home to find the landlord in the house. That was fun - and also slightly uncomfortable. But slowly/surely, things in the house are being fixed. Window sills, frames and screen's, the lock on Daniel's door. All in ready order. And suddenly we have a rabbit! Says Lithium, and thus we are excited.

So to honour our new ghetto roommate (the rabbit's name is Slim Shady), I leave you with this final note: Word.

...the effects of education, i suppose...

I can't take Pierre Pettigrew, Canada's new Minister of Foreign Affairs, seriously.

Because Pierre in English is Peter, which makes him Peter Pettigrew, who was the man-turned-rat-missing-one-finger villain in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Do you see the predicament?

Monday, August 16, 2004

...jesus was-a be-boppin' down the street...

It's funny because as soon as Amir-Ali, and Atta, and I were together again, the time seemed as if nothing and everything was like old times. Amir-Ali would tell joke after joke (not planned jokes, just funny in conversation) and Atta and I would hang on to his every word and laugh so hard.

There are party sandwiches and fruit slices and canapes and chelo kabob in my fridge - I will be well fed until Wednesday, at least.

You people are all of no use to me. Did I not say I needed a website maker helper outer person? Even if you just GUIDE me on my way, please do. This MUST be done!

Also - well I was going to talk about M, but I don't really want to. It's too headachy in the sense that he keeps asking me out, I keep avoiding, but part of me wants to, but the other part of me knows it's disaster-in-the-making. We'll see what happens.

...i like change - i might grow a moustache...

The thing with movies like Princess Diaries 2 is that you have to go see them in secret. Otherwise you get the proverbial eyeroll comme recu par le Ed after I told him that's where our pretty sandaled feet were heading tonight.

After the movie, I turned to Kelly and said "So. Officially my favorite movie ever". And I meant it, for tonight anyways. Because this is a movie in which under a tree by moonlight, the girl and the guy she loves play thumb wars - and resonated loud and clear since tonight over dinner THIS girl and the guy SHE loves played thumb wars. It was a sign of things to come. Or you know, not. But it made my heart twinkle. So I'm walking out of the theatre, my heart twinkling away - and Cheryl turns back to me "You are such a loser".

Alright - I will stop trying to make you hurl. This is the thing: there is a project to be started. The Project, capitals and all. It will take a lot of time, and when school starts, that's even more time of mine that will be taken. This is made even more so, considering as of September 9 I am holding down two jobs. Know what that means? Less blogging. I say that now, but probably I'll blog just as much, just sleep less and be grouchy with bags under the eyes and a generally brittle demeanor and the only way you'll be able to stand me is by gently reminding yourselves of the charming girl I once was.

PS: Speaking of The Project - it needs a website. Anyone love me enough to build me a pretty website that will be effective for the purpose it must hold? Contact me for details. I will be grateful forever, and give you props, and sweet sweet lovin'.




Friday, August 13, 2004

...BOOYAH!...

Yes, this is an update within the same hour but it's REALLY important.

Guess who will be writing for an upcoming magazine and getting PAID by article? Raise the roof, y'all because I am now the queen of the world, oh yes.

Thank god for wireless internet (even though I hate it), because it keeps me posting even now, in Academy madness and all of that.

...soit plus violents que les feux de volcans...

i) Is it just me, or is the music in Mulan significantly better in French? Maybe it's cause they got Patrick Fiori to sing the part of Chang, and PF is a beautiful, beautiful man.

ii) Today was a *good* day. Academy will be missed, dearly. Man, I can't stress the inspiration and exceptionalness of these kids enough.

iii) I cite the thing with the hands, the head-touching side-holding, and my recent, ahem, "colourful" promotion as sufficient evidence to Cheryl that I am, indeed, "stepping". Yes, you may think we're moving slower than a caterpillar on lydocaine, but hastiness never got anyone anywhere. Contemplation! It is *always* about contemplation. And also, my intense and paralysing fear, but that's a whole other story entirely.

iv) Despite the fact that I have the willpower of a two year old, in the morning two people will cease to exist. They will be removed from any further mention, any contact lists, current telephone listings in my cell, the whole gamut.

You hear Rachel in the background, snorting her disbelief. She has good reason, based on my past failures (and by this I mean that I tried to do this *yesterday*) at such, to lack faith, but I am determined. I have determination. And so I determine that this is the way it shall be.

v) Shit, I may have gotten caught today. So there's this guy, let's call him... R. Upon notice of my bare chested Marilyn Monroe purse, and upon discovery of the error that was Rene, he has become slightly intrigued by me, in that he wants to see what I'm about. Not because he's interested, but because I don't think he gets whatever he thinks he gets. Anyways - as a result, he observes me at times. And I think today he may have just observed himself right into figuring out who has got me head over my new-platform calloused heels. Which is probably not good given a) this group's propensity for romantic gossip, and b) the entirely obnoxious perceptiveness of four key people.


Thursday, August 12, 2004

...i've bought a big bat, i'm all ready you see...

If I were a guy, and I had dated a girl, and then played every lameass cowardly little boy boorish game in the book - if I were this guy, I probably wouldn't be thick enough to ask one of her best friends for advice on how to approach another girl. I'd probably be smarter than that. Or smart enough to know that I should probably be more considerate than that.

But then, in my (totally unbiased) opinion, I'd probably also be considerate enough to fall off a cliff and die. But you know, you can't have everything. Or, it seems, anything at all.

This is all. I'm leaving you for a few days. The world sucks and I need soulful rejuvenation or whatever other term you want to use for something that will get me stop feeling like pitching forward off my own happy cliff, so I'm off to Academy in the morning, then somewhere else after that. I'll be back Monday.

PS: Spare me the bit about divided loyalties and logic and anything like that. In fact, spare me all comments entirely. Unless of course you agree with me, in which case, by all means...

The day wasn't a total waste though. I saw Jordan on the street as I was heading home. I don't see the beautiful-eyed one for two years then three times in one summer. This is nice and lovely. Janet you shouldn't be in France. If you were here, you too could have seen Jordan and his eyes.

In a totally unrelated (except that it is completely related) note - Tara and Charbu and I were to have a night of utter revelation in fabulousness. What happened to that? Let's get on that, yes?

Yes.

...like an island on a ship in the sea...

i) I had a nice phone call last night, 1 in the morning. By nice I mean scary, naturally. Strange guys talking, Star Wars reference, shady "don't you remember me?" - and then a girl on the line, saying in Farsi "he's just a bad boy" or something like that.

What the fuck Persian people know my cell phone number, I gotta ask. I started running down a list of people who it could be. It was a surprisingly short list really, and one name seemed to ring a bell. Or an alarm.

See you have to ask yourself what psychos do I know. That's to start - then you have to amend it to what psycho Persians do I know. Yeah, that's who I got too. Thank god for Nick and Derek respectively, I must say, otherwise I would have been a basketcase.

ii) From now on I only want to hear opinions if they agree with me. Is that so wrong?

iii) I got yelled at today. By two people alternately and for the same reason, almost. Cheryl thinks I should step it up and tells me she better see some action tomorrow. I told her sure, there'll be action. The kind where there isn't. But because she is Cheryl and I seriously fear for my life when I don't do her biddings, the mini-skirt will be worn tomorrow. I have to make *some* effort, at least. Aimable is playing wingman and I am LOVING it, as I am loving him. What would I do without my Aimable watching my back, and my heart, and such. He's a good boy.

iv) Theresa sang "Hello", arguably my favorite Lionel Ritchie song in the world, last night on CI. Then Aimable and I sang it back and forth to each other all day. In between doing that, I annoyed Paul royally by taking everything he said and being able to quote after it a relevent line from "The Charge of the Light Brigade". He was fed up with me. Which is always charming and more entertaining than I can say.

v) I think the problem with that was that I had tried to recreate a past imperfect. And since physics taught me it was impossible, I really just should have known better.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

...ode to broken things...

I think I am wondering why I bother. I think I am wondering why he does.

So two days ago my green-eyed inside spat sarcasm like dirty tobacco. Then I had the nerve to be stunned when A turned tail and ran. As if he should have stayed there and took it like a man, then repented for all of time (head bowed, humbled still). Actually, if I am not mistaken, that was the pretense under which I was bitter and spiteful and snide - I said he wasn't a man but a little boy, since he didn't act like one, age or not.

So there's a new girl. A maybe new girl. He goes through quite a few of those doesn't he? She's Persian and that bothers me more. I don't know why - only that I should be the only Persian one. I am unique, was unique, was special and that should be RECOGNIZED.

The problem with me is I suffer from Kuch's famous "too-nice syndrome". As a result, I apologized today (I actually apologized) for having been a bitch, to which he responded "it's all water under the bridge". Do you understand how angry that made me? That he had the nerve to tell me it was all water under the bridge, when months after the fact I have heard not one apology to which I may have said it was all water under the bridge? He has no right forgiving me, I do not need forgiveness. I need to give it. Providing it is ever deserved. So far, really has not been.

I'm a naive drama queen. Or something disconcertingly akin, in a land of make believe. I made believe I was important, or something. At some point during the summer I started make believing that I was fixed and whole and happy, but that is such a lie. Did anyone even buy it for a minute? I told myself I could get back in the game - instead, M hates me because he says I lied to him, led him on, used him and maybe I did but that wasn't the intent. The intent was to prove I was fixed, but clearly I wasn't then.

Am I now? Not really, not completely. But I could be and suddenly now there's the new one, the one we want to be a new one. And he tells me I'm lovely, and his arms are soft when he holds me, and I fit so seamlessly in the space between his neck and his left shoulder blade but all the same I want to whip out my ex resume and say "look, these are all the people who got to me first, and left me serrated like the edge of a bread knife".

I think at times I hope this doesn't start because what starts ends, and at least I can deal with limbo. Finite is a little more difficult.

This whole thing is increasingly getting a little more difficult. Life, love, days, all of it. Maybe it's Toronto. Maybe I could leave again. Maybe I should.


...when we are together, we are the change...

I always cry at Academy. It's just a fact of my being who I am that there is always something about the power and beauty and strength of this collection of young people that will have me in tears at some point. Last night, it was the story of Mariatu, and knowing I could not have been that strong. Speaking with Lloyd afterwards, I asked him was it hard for her did he think to listen to Cheryl's and Jonathan White's speeches? He said he thought she had mostly made peace with much of what had happened. How, I didn't understand.

I may not understand how the world got to this point where we can let these things happen to beautiful girls like Mariatu, and to millions of other children around the world; how the world can sit by and let war rage, and poverty run rampant, and hunger consume - and not do anything about it. I may not understand that, but I understand the importance of gatherings like Academy for being the collection of young leaders who are working to change the world. They are standing up and saying that they want better, they want fairer. They want a more peaceful, more equitable, more just world in their future.

120 youth stood in a circle, the beginning of a demonstration by Jonathan to show how much impact one person can have. It began with one boy who said "I am one person, what difference can I make?". The person to his right joined him, and the two together said "I am one person, what difference can I make?". Then the girl to the right of these two. Again and again, we went around this circle, until finally 120 voices were saying this phrase together. Can you imagine how loud 120 voices are when raised in unison? How powerful that can be?

THIS is the difference we can make. Joe said it best - "When we are together, we are the change". This was Leaders Today Academy 2004. Every year, I am stunned by the force and strength and hope of these young people, and also by my conviction that we are making waves, and we are making changes. This is where it starts, with people coming together. And we owe the world this, really. We are privileged to live in Canada and in an affluent society, but with that comes the responsibility to use the tools at our disposal to improve the lives of people in society's that are not as affluent as we.

They tell us sometimes that we're naive, and idealistic. That we won't be able to reduce poverty or war or hunger, that we won't be able to carry out the goals that we have. Just watch us. And join us, because it is only when we work together that we can create change.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

...said one more dance and i'm like yeah...

Driving home with my mom along the Don Valley Parkway, late night, lights bright - shooting past the Bell building then the Dell, with their neon signs lighting the way. All these cars, all these man-made strange creations going past, I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was in a space age fantasy land and was completely overwhelmed for a minute and all I wanted to do was run home and hide under my covers. So absurd.

Sunday, August 08, 2004

...tasliat...

He passed away this morning, which is why Mahmoud Khan called, as I thought.

Watching my mother break down is something I hope never again to experience, in my life ever. The hardest thing is knowing there is nothing that I can do except put away the groceries, and clean the house, because even in the face of grief it has to be done. And be the one in the family who doesn't cry but greets people as they come in, and answers the phone with polite courtesy.

The time between when we found out and the time the first mourner showed up was 43 minutes. And they will continue to come. Don't contact me for a couple days. Just sit there, and try to comprehend that someone brilliant, and funny, and so gentle who was close to me doesn't exist anymore.

I hate the word, tasliat. I don't really want to hear their condolences. It's empty, from most of them. But then there are those people who share my mothers grief, sincerely, and I think I will always remember that Homa was here first before anyone, truthfully faster than I would have thought possible, and held my mom and it helped.

...always belonged to someone else...

Mahmoud Khan called from France this morning and asked to speak to my father, who wasn't at home. Then he asked to speak with my mother, who was in the shower. I am afraid this means that my dai Bahman died sometime in the night. And he didn't want to tell it to me himself.

It is not as if this would be unexpected. For the past two years lung cancer has been overwhelming Bahman, while spreading to his kidney, bones, liver and finally, blood. He was strong throughout, until suddenly two weeks ago when there was a turn for the worse and suddenly my family experienced a mass exodus to France to see him, and be there for him, even though by this time he was primarily unconscious and could not have been aware of it. And now, it was coming down to just days.

And then Mahmoud Khan called from France this morning and asked to speak to my father, and this is where we are. Somewhere on the other side of the ocean my uncle is dead or dying and I am scared to death, and angry beyond anything I can express because three nights ago, when they began to tell me how serious it had become and why my mother had just bought an express ticket to France and run off to find an emergency passport renewal, my father paused in his story to light a cigarette.

Saturday, August 07, 2004

...beauty queen of only 18...

There is an ibook in my future. My mommy says so.

Today was moving day. Asad's done it, and so has Ana - so they all know the frustration of moving. Also the general feeling that you never want to see another box again. I am convinced part of the reason I wanted everything in the house to be perfect right off the bat, was so that I would find myself living in a place I wanted to stay in, and thus avoid moving for another long while.

Briefly - I love the house, and my room, and the neighbourhood, and the library on the corner, and everything about this place.

I'll write more when I have my own computer (it waits for a wireless card) - until tomorrow children.

...i too am getting annoyed with Ken...

Oh dear, how true it is.

Friday, August 06, 2004

...quick nothings...

i) It is 8 pm, almost. I am still at work, mostly. 11 hours, whoo!

ii) In a little while, I am going to start plugging Me 2 We hardcore, because I truly think everyone should read that book. I have said that already, but I will say it again, and again. And I will email you all to tell you personally (or mass-ly) to check it out and why.

iii) In my fortune cookie, from lunch: "An empty stomach makes a poor political advisor".

iv) For the first time in my life I am here later than Dalal. This will soon become a more common occurance as I move 15 minutes away from the office tomorrow, and will shortly have no family to come home too, and my life will become my job and I will become bitter and pale from lack of sunlight, and I will hate the world, and all of you, too.

But for now, it has been a great day, and he said I looked lovely, which I did today - and I love each and all of you, a hundred times over.




Thursday, August 05, 2004

...i feel violated...

Ew eww ewww...

Some creeper named Bob stole my old blog address - absentsanity.blogspot.com - and is using it to spread horribly disturbing deviant literature.

I am thoroughly disturbed.

Thank you to Derelit for bringing it to my attention.

Update: Okay this is seriously disturbing - look at the blue dot things at the bottom. Those are links to other blogs, but they are all recent and they are all about phone sex - and they are all written by Bob! WHAT THE FUCK!

Can I email blogger and put an end to this? Can I? On behalf of my sacred old site?

...it's a horrible horrible scheme...

The skirt I just bought (on my lunch hour!) from Club Monaco is a size 2.

I think it's a conspiracy. A cruel one to make me think I have lost weight when I know I haven't.

A problem: I have to go salsa dancing tonight. What should I wear? Can I wear a lightlightlight pink ruffly-pleat skirt, with a black v-neck scandalously-so top and black heels? Anyone? You have until 9 to tell me.

Cheers!

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

...he, if asked, would also confess to killing our lord...

I think the problem may be that I don't completely know what "humbled" means. It was a word/concept that I never fully understood. Maybe because I am an immigrant. Maybe because I am dumb.

Melissa is coming tomorrow. I get Melissa tomorrow. The Meliss-inator. Tomorrow. In the city.

I also get Spring Rolls.

She told me in an email the other day that she's sorry she isn't a fortune teller and that she doesn't have magical powers. I think she said that so that I don't build her up in a "Melissa can fix everything" sense. But what she doesn't know is that she does have magical powers, and she can fix everything, just by being herself, who is the sweetest of selfs, and makes my day so much brighter with her wacky emails that attempt (unsuccessfully) to convince me she isn't snorting cocaine. And then she called me a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles (which, truly, I am) and so my day was made.

Speaking of days being made, I had a shitty day at work and the boss man doesn't like me, I don't think. Or at least doesn't trust or respect me, which amounts to the same thing in an environment where I have been trying to distinguish myself for so long. BUT the Zen-Buddhist Brahmin god-0'-mine made me happy by showing me a postcard that he had once recieved from Patrick Stewart (THE Patrick Stewart).

Then he punched my cheek. Not really, but you know. The joke punch. Like you do to a five year old, chuck-under-the-chin, like that. Like a five year old.

...you can come anytime you want...

I want this to be sang to me, over and over again, forever. Exactly the way he sings it. Ok?

Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you beautiful...


Tuesday, August 03, 2004

...madness has an enormous pavilion...

Things that make me happy:
- scrabble
- thighs just touching, thumb just brushing
- insence smoke billowing through castle windows
- FCUK men's cologne

Things that made me happy today:
- all of the above

Would it be horrible of me to have my dad and my uncle and my cousins assemble my furniture on Saturday without my help, and for me to go to the Sloan/Constantines/The Stills concert on Olympic Island with Bridget?

Monday, August 02, 2004

...the "anyways" compilation of informative fact...

i) Correction: Derek is not 6'4, he is 6'3.

ii) Inna is a hard judge. And life is a hard boat to sail in. I want all my questions answered for me by the only one who can answer them. Would we have had these problems if it had been answered and well the first time around? Would the book be closed now, do you think?

iii) I spent an hour on the phone with Cheryl tonight and the whole time we discussed the L-word, which is actually the L-name, because it is a name and not a word. Proper noun and all, and even if it weren't a proper noun, I would capitalize it all the same. Because he is that important to my life. And then she got me started talking about his hands, and then she yelled at me, saying I am not taking enough risks, and I'm scared and we know all this, but she said step it up, so it looks like as of tomorrow I am stepping.

iv) I am covered in paint. Paint, paint, paint from my pretty new room in my pretty new house in the pretty old neighbourhood that is nowhere near my old neighbourhood, hence the enduring basis of its appeal, and hey if I can't get to France yet, at least I'm as far as I can conveniently get at the moment, and it works. For the moment.

But after tonight - when Jenni, Dana, and Rachel showed up at my house to walk Mac the Dog then watch Shakespeare in Love - I know that being so far away from them, I will miss my lil sisters sooo much, as well as the entire Weiss family who are a family of mine away from my own family, and I love them all.

Reprise: This post used to be twice the length, and it's because I did it again. Went and erased big whole chunks that I decided did not want to be read. Why do I hate this blog sometimes? This blog has become like a boyfriend you know has gone past the expiration date, yet are loath to give up. I should dump it before it dumps me. Seriously - one of these days Blogger is going to wake up and realise I am taking up precious bandwidth talking nonesense and kick me to the curb.

...bad literature brings no redemption...

I messed up.

I really, really messed up. I could make excuses for it - but understandable or not, explainable or not, unavoidable or not, I have no one to blame but myself, and so much to make up for.

But I need to be met half way. Okay?

Sunday, August 01, 2004

...in his right hand he held a golden trumpet...

"There is no love ", he said, "there is only science".

The context as a whole eludes me at the moment, but when he said it was so logical. Except we weren't talking about love at all, but a friend's parent's depression and how it will pass because everyone has sad bits, and it is only science and logic. And then there was the quote.

This was Steve by the way, this conversation. The conversation of Steve. The conversation by Steve in the bar where Steve works. We like Steve.

Because I am who I am, and ups/downs are what I do - I will explain that today was as amazing a day as yesterday was horrid. Today there was Harbourfront with M. Day, and we were joined a couple of hours later by my Derelit and sideburn-less Mark. Me and my boys in the front of the harbour. Me and my towering boys, because at 6 feet, 6'4 and 6'4 respectively, they tower over my 5 foot self. Even in my platform flip-flops.

Post-waters edge, we walked uptown to my new "hot babe lair" (as Martha calls it), to show the guys the place. They agreed that it is quite possibly the coolest house ever. The day of the housewarming party has been set, and yes. We are excited.

Eventually we had to take Derek and Mark to the bus station, as they were both leaving me today. Damn them all. It was at this point that M. Day and I headed down to Summerhill and the bar of Steve. Killed time there, fun talks and walks and Pepsi (not coke), and laughing and no bad thoughts. Whee!

Tomorrow there will be painting and cleaning of the house. This weekend there will be more painting and moving into the house. And Kristen will be here! Way past due, I get my Kristen fix three months gone.

See? It didn't have to be everything. Good things are stronger and overcome. Overcome! It was overcame.

In something somewhat related but only just, M. Day is far too perceptive for my own good. Sometimes people like this worry me because they know too much and I do not like too much of me to be known. I speak of personal "nature of Sanam" ways and not facts of day-to-day existence, because you all know everything about me in that sense (which is no sense at all, really).

The point is he picked up on things because of wordage and some comments earlier, and I didn't think I was so visible like that, and oh I have to be so careful now, because he knows my favorite poem you see, and if he thought about it, the things he could learn because the significance is there only waiting to be realised. It's such a dualistic scheme too. Of opposites and parallels and similarities despite it all.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul...

...your secret name shall have 36 letters...

For the record. When I in the future say "I do not want to go", please do not coerce me into going. I know what I am doing. I know this because tonight I did not want to go, but I did, and then spent the subway ride between Eglinton and Finch stations inclusive in tears.

I remember promising one time to write of the paradoxical relationship between caring for someone and simultaneously hating them, but I don't really think an in-depth exposition is necessary. I'm betting how I feel is by no means unique and you know exactly the entanglement of emotions that I am speaking of.

There are 6 stations between Eglinton and Finch. Plenty of time for contemplation that I, unlike others who self-profess as much, am not a changed man. I don't know if I realistically thought I was, but I didn't think I was still so tied up. Shows what I know.

Also it only took me three minutes to first lose it tonight, and just leave everything and walk off. Seems that in addition to not being a changed man, I am also not a tough cookie.