...strangers that you've met...

Plato was too beautiful for this world, I think. Too many pure ideas, of the spiritual. The world is constructed in such a way that anyone wielding that shield of naivete will find themselves crushed under what, essentially, always turns out to be a dark place.

Apparently, everyone is unsatisfied with their life. There's always something else we want, something more. My discontent is not unique.

When I say that the answer is a "change of scene", I don't refer solely to geography. I speak more generally than that. I need a change to all the elements that would cause unhappiness, discomfort, or uneasiness. So I guess New York is no answer after all. I'm slowly learning that I can make a change of scenery even here, in this city. I suppose it means that what I really need is a change of component parts, a complete personal feng shui.

...misperception taints my love...

This is why I hate the University of Toronto: After getting our bioethics exams back, we line up at our T.A.'s desk to argue various points. I had a legitimate problem with a simple calculation error, and a question about partial marks on a less simple answer. I did not want to wait 15 minutes behind the innane self-absorbed questions of the silly chit in front of me.

Her concern centred around a question she had answered incorrectly due to misreading the question. In my book, if you misread the question, tough shit. She lost 1.5 marks. Her mark was 46/50, an A+, a 4.0. Now whether she got that 1.5 marks or not, her mark was going to be an A+, a 4.0. So why in the world was she pushing this so hard?

I wouldn't have been as annoyed if she had a valid argument to make. She couldn't even manage that - "But ma'am, isn't it obvious from my other questions that I, like, know everything? I mean it just isn't fair, at all! I looked at this mark and it was, like, ouch, you know? I mean, I like, know *everything*".

Everything, that is, except reading the question properly. Move on. God these anal mark-hounding eager-beavers that make up the majority of this institution - should be shot, all of them, quickly.

Naturally, she was wearing Uggs and grey sweatpants. I don't know why that makes a difference. But it does.

...abandonado...

With every step that I took to follow the old man in the store yesterday who was shoplifting, my heart broke a little more. I am losing faith in the world. He was such a sweetheart, and then when I got the motion from Rob to tail him, I cried inside.

Today is lunch with my father, hot boy high with - well, we know, studying with an SLC punk, and dreaming of Decemberists, on sale tomorrow.

Also, discussing international adoption and baby smuggling rings as commodity culture, hurrah anthropology.

...gruau!...

i) Rob was really the only thing which made work worthwhile today. So much heart for him, honestly - like a well that doesn't run dry. Dirty man.

ii) I'm having a moment of panic, the paranoid type that has no foundation except silly generalizations. About actors. No pun intended?

iii) My happiest encounter today is from Daniel, about the cake Ashley's mother brought us: "I have to buy a vowel because O My God!"

iv) The snowman at the house next door has an orange umbrella sticking out of its head.

v) Having lunch with my daddy tomorrow, I'm so cute.

...lies on sarah...

Working with Rachel on her essay, philosophy, she is flipping out about Microsoft Grammar check.

"What?! What's wrong with it? What do I have to change?" she cries.

"Nothing", I shoot back, "just click ignore. What you wrote is fine".

"Right. I forgot you could do that. I forgot they aren't always right".

...tres fantasias na cabeca...

A translation for your benefit of "Electricidade", one of my favorite poems from Brazilian Ledusha Spinardi:

Like in a love song
With the awe of first pain
I woke up crying
Whirling around the apartment
Holding an interview with Godard
Three ideas in mind
Feeling so down
I went downtown
Lyrical Ulysses, milkshake devourer
With quick steps, I told my reflection on the shops' windows
"Hello, Marina Vladi", emulating her hairstyle
Shops' speakers daze me
I almost felt like falling in love

Then, blowing on an espresso coffee
With the voice of the king in my belly
Jobim in my heart
Whistling in the lift
A song consoles me
While mum knits
Penelope dreamer
I need to get out of the house
If someone touches your body like I do, do not say anything.

...the flash lets it be broken...

"Chicken Tail Buns".

Baby. As glad as I am that you are actively thinking about my buns, this isn't what I intended when I asked you to come up with a dodgeball name for me. Is what I would say if I were actually speaking to you and not an unresponsive, tangibly-absent cyber audience.

As I was walking home tonight, I happened to pass a marching band. Full out ensemble with trumpets and percussion, with lots of flashlights to attract attention. At first I was confused, and thought this was too surreal to actually be occurring. Then I realised this is just one of the pretty attractions of living in the vacinity of Baldwin and Kensington Market.

...behind the ears, don't forget...

I woke up to a Miles on the living room floor. Don't understand, don't really want to know as long as when I leave my room after an hour of reading, I hope that he will have left.

The leg still hurts, but I'm only on for five hours today so I will grin and bear. It had better be repaired by Sunday's 9 hour shift. 9 hour shift, I should mention, with my heart and thus I would like to be spry, able, you know. They moved me from Saturday to Sunday and made me so happy happy. Because it's one less shift working with someone I don't care much for, and another shift with one I probably care too much for. Nice how that works out.

Uggh... tired, and cranky. I'll cheer up later and reconvene. For the moment, I need to crawl back in bed for a couple hours.

...conveniently complacent...

i) I even got rejected for a Visa. Man, my life sucks (at this moment of depression at least, the rest of the day was lovely).

ii) Does it mean anything, do you think, that I can count every conversation I have ever had with Marc on one hand? After being here almost 4 years? Today there was another conversation. By which I mean, a sentence. In response to news of Alex's girlfriend (dum dum da da): "Do you know her?" - No, I said. That was all.

I really wish he didn't think I was so completely useless. He makes me feel about *this* small.

iii) "Your signals suck", AM tells me earlier tonight. My signals? Mine?! Christ. I hate men. Stop confusing me.

iv) Last night in my sleep, a massive Charlie Horse in my right calf, and the pain is still harassing me today. Every time I take a step, my right calf muscle contracts more than the left, and it hurts like a bitch. I'm concerned that if it goes on like this, it might actually start tearing as it pulls.

This might mean that I have to go to the health centre tomorrow.

But the real implication is that I'll have to wake up early to shave my legs.

v) Chingy! Do we remember "right thurr"?

...at night a candle's brighter than the sun...

Thursday is Sting, from "Nothing Like the Sun". This week has been pure old times, back to golden. The day has seen two more chapters of anthropology completed with flying colours. The night intends a return of child-like revelry through old haunting grounds, an oldmanbritish bar we love to love, and a maneouvre to rescue one Jewish SLC refugee before she commits sacreligious acts of any sort or manner.

Grocery List, for my own purposes, for tomorrow:

- cereal
- bag of dry pasta
- two red peppers, mushrooms, broccoli
- apples, plus one other fruit
- egg noodles, stop at Chinese superstore
- multi-grain bread
- baba ganoush
- oatmeal bars

...life, death, love and other small vanities...

Today my neck was bare so as not to be taken for trying too hard. I spoke to you anyway, Tsanami you call me now because I'm powerful like that. I'm just wanting.

Shivering in my room at 1:30 in the morning, only partly from the cold. The rest is residual tremor from Buddy Miller at the horseshoe tonight. Endurance like no one I've seen, the man went three hours straight. Just hit after hit after hit, and we were dancing and singing and stamping along. Such a warm performer, he drew us in with more than his incredible voice and powerful, image-laden songs; he captured us with tales from his early days, the food scene in Nashville, and the true reason he went to the Grammy's this year. Exhausted now, but still reeling from a true masterful performance (oh child, if you could have seen it).

Interjection: Rachel pulled psychoanalysis on me again, reminding me that he is no child. I only call him that to make him seem younger than he is, in my mind. For the same reason that for the past week I have told people I am 21 when asked, though I am still 6 months short. I like 21 better, one more year to his... several long years older than 21.

Justin opened tonight for Buddy Miller. It was interesting seeing that set after his performance on Thursday night's cd release. On Thursday, Justin was a master act. Maybe it was the comfort of knowing that they had all been there for love of him, but the ease and stellar manner with which he belted out his songs on Thursday was completely different from tonight, which came off exactly as it was: an opening act.

Opening act or not, I don't think I'll ever get tired of listening to him sing. So much talent, mind blowing. And these beautiful, simple lyrics that are so true to life-emotion and spirituality. Signing the inside of my CD (today I played groupie), he writes "thank you very very very very very much, Jason Rutledge". That's an inside joke. To get it, you have to read the current issue of The Strand, and an interview which made me laugh buckets. Oh Carole, what did you write...

To demonstrate that I am not, in fact, a loser who hangs around my place of employment even on days when I'm not working, I will not go in to the store at ALL until Friday night's shift.

Further, despite the approaching deadline of the social anthropology paper on commodity cultures, I will go out tomorrow night encore une fois. The Duke of G it looks like it will be, for MAH2 pub night, and reunion with the FTC-ers.

...purify me...

Ech... des propos aimables obligatoires! Merde a la politesse!

...let me see you save a mind that isn't there...

The Rheostatics have been serenading me since early early this morning, since I was up at the godforsaken hour of 6am. Who in the world is awake that early?!

Just to let you know, in the Toronto Star horoscopes where it says posted at 1am, that is a horrible lie. Because this morning it wasn't up until after 9, I know because I checked every 20 minutes like an addict deprived of her next hit.

In this topsy-turvy world, media marketing moguls dictate our likes and dislikes. It's hard to know if what we want comes from our inner needs or from media bombardment. This full moon is calling you to indulge in some incisive introspection.

Well, we did the introspection last night so we're good on that point, and what do you know but the topic of said introspection was about needs and wants, about whether I ever know what I want, or if I subconsciously go after what I think I should want. Sometimes I'm afraid I pursue exactly what I don't want for fear that if I had what I want, I might lose it.

Interviews coming up for the journal - attempting to claim either Broken Social Scene, or Naomi Klein. Good god, that's exciting.

...life goes easy on me...

An hour of introspection revealed nothing new. The same old generalization that I am essentially just fucked up, at the seams even.

The most important thing for me in the next week or so is to remain calm, and display some self-restraint. Today I was self-restrained, mostly - only the smile which broke through occasionally unprovoked, unannounced, and uncomprehended by everyone except Iman demonstrated any breach of control. I'll try to keep this restraint and control even in the face of soft touches and sweet references to old jazz.

Pfft. I can't be bought by old jazz. Can I?

There is a strong probability that I will not be attending a single class this week. I haven't yet, since Monday - the academic swing still hasn't been found. The music swing certainly has though, and I am going out again tomorrow night. This is getting to be a habit. Not a particularly healthy one. Really, there is a very simple solution. I just have to stop meeting cool musicians, who's shows I must go to.

*sigh*. I want Barcelona, and all that implies. Or rather, all that Justin wrote about it. Smell of roses and cocaine. I want mellow, like the playlist on my computer. If my head could only stick to that largo rhythm. Earlier this morning, the frightening sense of my head having a pulse, and racing out of control. I couldn't contain my thoughts, or make sense of them. Scared to death, I lay there for half an hour like that, missing class in the process.

I haven't been having a good day/week, not really thinking. I make little sense at the best of times, so you can predict how comprehensible I have been lately. The people I need are absent, it is very irritating for me. I will not be okay until they show themselves, and that looks increasingly unlikely until the 17th of March and a plane from distant lands which will bring me a girl with black hair/pink highlights and a funny accent. March 17th seems very far for me.

...someone's secrets you see...

People frequently make the assumption that you are unable to maintain a clear perspective. It isn't true. You are a rational being who weighs feelings. The process can be painful, but the results are profound.

Take that, bitch.

...love smokers...

Another strong earthquake hits Iran - though not as devastating as the Bam earthquake. 500 look to have been killed so far. Not a great start to the day.

Oh Tuesday, what did you write? You have no intention of being better than yesterday do you? Working till 11, see you after...

...gyaaggh...

I was such a loser today. I can't even talk about it. Every possible thing I could have done to completely act my age, I think I did. Useless, I should be shot.

Alright Tuesday, you have a lot to live up to. Please be good, please be better...

...blog as emergency beacon, guiding light...

Well. It's certainly gratifying to see that you people are paying attention after all. Several emails were awaiting me this morning, wanting to be my answer-giving saviours, my tow-truck drivers through mazes of emotional rubble. "When did our dynamics change?! Aren't we friends anymore?", they ask, as if the week or so between our last conversations have shifted the nature of the whole world, realizing that my friendships are the whole world. Only one of my fair-intentioned correspondants was on the ball, but I was comforted immeasurably by the thought that I have so many concerned friends. Or at least, so many curious friends wanting to know all the low-down secrets of my past.

Pause: In a very strange conversation just now, a friend of Adele's who I have never met called me to ask about laptop advice. She didn't even give me her name, just "I'm a friend of Adele's and I'm buying a laptop. She said you could help me decide between an ibook and a powerbook?" It was very odd.

Now where was I? Oh yes, my dirty shady past. oooooooo ooooh. No, really it isn't that dark and mysterious. I'm still the boring me of old.

In other news, I could wait until tomorrow to see you and thus be sane and responsible. Or I could drop all my other plans and show up tonight, thus seeing you three times in one week instead of just two, making me happier and more bright-eyed? There is of course the chance that you'll just think I'm nuts, but I'm willing to risk that. If only because you strike me as the kind to find it endearing and not wierd. Yay crazy people! Three cheers!

...white lillies on a dark background...

Elements of a Sunday night:

i) After noticing today's necklace (and having previously commented on Friday's), he blurts out "yeah... your neck always looks really nice". I didn't really know how to respond, it being fairly bizarre as compliments go, so I smiled and said thank you. Awkward silence, but the good kind - we leave in two different directions, but he stops by twice before the night is done, so I'm happy and among the clouds.

ii) The thing about doing your groceries late in the night is that all the good produce is gone. But it's a sacrifice to which I can resign myself since the benefits of convenience are far superiour.

iii) Problem: tomorrow night has two opposing events - the Passionate Eye documentary on Iranian prostitution at 9pm, and the screening of Jambo at the National Film Board at 7pm. Aieee, this is aggravating.

iv) A good portion of the day was spent thinking about some things I was made to realise last night about my family, their friends, their past, things they went through, things they still think about, an existence I can't comprehend if I tried. I have all these jumbled thoughts on the matter, and not knowing how I'm supposed to feel about it all exactly. I want to have someone who can give me all the answers, like I had over the summer. But changing dynamics have unsettled me to the extent that I am loathe not only to pick up the phone, but also to email which is relatively tame and unfrightening. But here I sit, not doing anything about anything. Useless because of reacting this way, and also because I still haven't put sheets on my bed. Mattress sleeping for one more night...

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

The man asked me to help him find the perfect book for his 7 year old, who he described as an "advanced reader". So I did what any good bookseller would do at that description - showed him to the leveled readers (pre-chapter books) for 5-8 years old.

"Well no that's a little much for him, he really doesn't read at that level quite yet. He only really reads Where's Waldo and I Spy books. Do you have any of those?"

It was all I could do not to respond: "So you're saying he isn't an advanced reader. He isn't, in fact, even a reader".

...coaster philosophy and the emergence of punk...

This was a really great night - it doesn't ask any more elaboration than that, because if I am to be truly "old soul" from 1979, I can't project, or analyse, or distort every angle until it is a misshapen mass. Just acknowledge that it was a really great night, and I would be pleased if more were to follow?

A somewhat related, more introverted realization begs to make itself known to you: I really have been horribly self-absorbed in the past. I could cry off and say it isn't my fault (and in a way, it isn't) but that would be an excuse. The truth is, I have a habit of tuning out. No matter who I am talking to, half the time my head isn't fully there and is chasing hundreds of other ideas. What this means is that I remember a lot of people in my past as having lectured to me - which I only realised today was not actually the case. It was more a matter of us not clicking well - neither in personality, or subject, or just plain interest.

This all comes from discovering around 2:30 that hey, it's 2:30 and we've been talking now for more than two hours. And I am as intrigued as I was two hours ago, and more so. I laughed so much - incredible.

So, grown up me says no analysis, no expectations. A leap of faith that says "que sera sera", and will not mention this again, except should developments ensue. If they don't, well I still had a great night.

Interjection: Farnam says - "And by nothing happens, you mean you have a cool new friend to hang out with?" Well yes, but grudgingly. You know what I mean.

In other news, I came home to find an email from the Italian, very polite, very sweet and the discovery that he was requesting to add me to MSN. I laughed, inside and out, because he isn't old school, not cool enough for 1979. Then accepted his request because, well - why make the poor guy sad?

...alchemy, however, is a chaste prostitute...

One of the many entertaining passages on mistupid.com.

A mother took her daughter to the doctor and asked him to give her an examination to determine the cause of her daughters swollen abdomen. It only took the doctor about 2 seconds to say "Your daughter is pregnant."

The mother turned red with fury and she argued with the doctor that her daughter was a good girl and would not compromise her reputation by having sex with a boy. The doctor faced the window and silently watched the horizon.

The mother became enraged and screamed, "Quit looking out the window! Aren't you paying attention to me?"

"Yes, of course I am paying attention ma'am. It's just that the last time this happened, a star appeared in the East, and three wise men came. I was hoping that they would show up again."

...you move and the whole garden moves...

i) Justin's CD release party tonight - blew my mind. Such an incredible performer, he has such presence. No one else could pull off standing on a chair in the middle of a packed club, singing without a mike, no amp for his guitar and around him silence as the whole club waits to take his cue to sing along.

And Lizzy was officially the Cutest. Massive amounts of capitals. Huge.

ii) My room is a disaster zone, I am not going to bed until it is clean.

iii) An email from AM this morning, telling me he's "uncomfortable admitting it" but he misses me a lot; can we hang out tomorrow night? Maybe he'll make me dinner, he says. Ack. No amount of finesse can maneouvre this one. Never the ones you want -- the ones you want are the ones who go suddenly silent at an invite and manage to squeak out "okay well have a great day... talk to you later" before they turn tail and run.

iv) I am equal parts excited and sad about moving home next year. Excited because I get the entire basement apartment for me, nice and private and get to save oogles of money. Sad because I'm going to miss my roommates and all the funness of us - arts and crafts in the middle of the night, hobo fires, salami sandwiches, and matrix-style martial arts with lightning.

...confessions of a shopoholic...

i)I have single handedly contributed a great amount to the revenues of Rocketdog in the past two months. It's like an addiction.

ii) All I am asking for is one. little. black. dress. What, did black suddenly go out of fashion? What kind of sense does that make? But everywhere today in the Eaton Centre, I had colours forced on me. Even Mexx, who ordinarily never leaves its dichromatic existance was shouting in fuschia, orange and teal. Fuck fuschia, I just want one short black dress. So, so frustrating.

iii) Jewellery was bought, some unique pieces, art stuff. I love that, because I know I'll be the only one wearing it. That's why the price doesn't really matter so much, originality.

iv) WHERE IS MY DRESS?

...i'm the realest that run it...

A succession of awkward factors has sapped your strength and caused you to feel besieged. Slowly, you are getting back your energy and your confidence. In a short while, you will feel reborn and rejuvenated.

Forget that shit, I already feel reborn and rejuvenated. My energy is off the walls, my confidence through the roof. Aced the bioethics midterm, half through my anthropology research. Had an appointment with my parents financial advisor today and have become an in-ves-tor.

In further news of this week that is great, we are currently weighing in at 117 pounds. This is happy news, we enjoy. We also enjoy the fact that the jeans are now too big, and not just because it means I can buy more.

Re: "A succession of awkward factors", from above. Yeah, we had that too. Jinx in full effect, minor fracas occurred this afternoon. But, it will be forgotten in a few days, I just need to keep the cool.

Also, good job recommending your fave workout songs. You guys are completely useless to me.

...bless the child that has his own...

In the hunt for great music to work out to, and taking suggestions. Current preferences are things with a hip-hop beats, a la Kanye West and Black Eyed Peas. "Let's Get Retarded" is the greatest song to get you going, awesome beat. This kind of thing is great for resistance training.

Michael Jackson and Madonna are both great for aerobic or pure cardio. I'm not a fan of electronica or trance, suggest it not.

Every muscle in my body, from shoulders through core straight down my thighs is sore like you would not believe, and I'm reveling in it because it shows my productivity. I'm averaging working out 5 times a week, which is quite an achievement from previous me, who got so bored at the gym she couldn't stay long. Now with my music and sheer force of will, I can stay for an hour sometimes two at a time.

To celebrate? Eaton Centre today to dress hunt. I have an image in my head of the kind of dress I want to find. What are the chances some premonitionally-inclined designer has it ready somewhere for me? Slim to none, yeah I know. Okay so this might take awhile. But I'm optimistic, let's go!

Last night, dinner at Banjara with the Blue House + Derelito, then "Travelers and Magicians" which was disappointing, especially compared to "The Cup" from the same country. Slow pace, awkward characters and plot development, the dual storyline was well intentioned but poorly executed, and oh yes, they forgot to end it. They just... stopped. Not impressive.

...get. that. dirt off your shoulder...

Further ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon:

Memories of Junior High

...polygamy porter's 2000 miles away...

If you are as bored as I am, may I suggest:

i) Imaginary City

ii) Girls are Pretty

iii) Post Secret

And in honour of day-after Valentine's Day, my favorite site, which I never get tired of visiting:

Zefrank's PreDate Helper

See also the sequel to zefrank's pre-date, for a new generation of the hopeless:

Advice

...only by using a speaker phone...

In a moment of inspired spontaneity, I clicked the link to the hub knowing full well that webgard was on hiatus. Imagine my delight when I saw that the experience machine was running again, and a fresh post had been written just yesterday.

The only reason I know it isn't coincidence is that last week I clicked to javod's link on the spur of the moment, only to find that he, too, had just written a post after a lengthy absence.

My powers are vast. I must be stopped.

I still maintain that webgard is the best writer on the net, though frustratingly sporadic. There's a lot of people who try, mainly by throwing around big words and superfluous design, and the few who just do. They just write.

Michael Barrish is another of these. Have I mentioned him before? Well, I'm mentioning him now, and I hope you all enjoy what he writes as much as I do.

...requiem in terra pax...

Productivity hasn't really been working for me the past couple of hours. My thoughts keep drifting to the subject of my dream last night, then to the logistics of scaling walls and picking locks, surprise showers? Maybe.

Really, this is all Danielle's fault. She sent me the picture, and now I'm stuck in a black swivel chair that isn't anywhere as comfortable as it sounds, just looking.

Dreaming is anticipation means to wait is hard.

In other news, it seems that many people didn't understand that the reason "Jorane - Dit-Elle" is blue is that it is a link, to the video. Clearly, I have placed it there so that you watch said video. Therefore... go to it".

...eighth world wonder...

There's a fire alarm blaring around me, in my parents building. Paul, the gorgeous work-at-home writer neighbour, and I headed down the hall to the stairwell and started going down from the 20th floor. It smells a little dusty, smoky. Somewhere around the 15th floor, the PA system crackled on, and a barely comprehensible voice said "This is the Toronto Fire Services, we are investigating a fire in the second floor stairwell. Please stay in your units until further notice.

Paul and I look at each other. He rolled his eyes, and we started jogging back up the stairs, looking warily behind us and down the stairwell.

So now I'm sitting at the computer, my head hurting from the alarm and the flashing lights, pondering the fact that there is an actual fire in the building and it's blocking the only way out, being as the elevator is obviously not running. I'm talking to Lizzy as I write this.

"You and fires, baby girl, what's up with that?" she asks, after sending me much love from SLC. Tell me about it. It's like they follow me, can't get rid of it. The system kicks in again and the same voice announces that the stairwell has been secured, and upper-level residents should start evacuating. I tell her I have to go and prepare to head out.

"Go, go", she says, "and no more fires! Only in your pants. Happy Valentines Day!"

...non, je n'ai rien...

Elle était là
Comment avait-elle su
Enter chez moi
Voler ma voix
Elle était là
Elle voulait me prendre dans ses draps
Tournait
Les mêmes mots m'assaillaient

Y avait personne
Personne pour m'arrêter
Et j'ai senti
Qu'elle avait réellement gagné
La mort riait
De me voir dans ses filets
Mais qu'est ce que j'ai fait
Pourquoi la vie me fuirait

J'étais face à face avec moi-même
Face à rien avec la même moi
Pourquoi voudrais-tu rester
Tu dois t'effacer viens donc avec moi
Non laisse-moi je ne veux pas m'enfuir
Je ne veux pas courir avec la mort
Éloigne-toi de moi éloigne-toi
Ne reviens jamais jamais ne reviens
Reviens jamais laisse-moi

La lune effacée
Le matin sur moi s'est couché
Et j'avais les poignets et les chevilles déliés
J'avais les poignets et les chevilles déliés

Give me your hand

Non je n'ai rien contre la vie
Dit-elle
Au contraire
Je crois en elle

~Jorane, "Dit-Elle"

...this country needs highlights...

i) Francine Pelletier, formerly of fifth estate, has made a mini-series about sex, but a unique one. "It's all been done and very badly! All the cliches - ", she says.

Yes. Clearly that is why she titled her miniseries "Sex, Truth and Videotape". To be original, and avoid cliche.

ii) Having just watched The Stepford Wives, I sit my computer a little annoyed, a little depressed, but with massive love as always for Bette Midler. I really enjoyed the movie until the end, where we find that a woman is behind all the madness in Stepford. A woman spurned, who then fell apart and converted strong, independent and go-get-em women into blond bimbo sex slaves in order to keep their lilly-livered men.

First of all: What are you doing falling apart because your husband left you? Get your priorities in order, honestly.

Second of all: A man who wants a mindless drone is not a man worth having. Who wants insecurity and manufactured masculinity?

iii) Jesus Walks, by Kanye West. Very enjoyable.

...you wouldn't believe how we wow fuck shit out up...

I wonder if you have any idea the state you get me in.

Socially conscious? Check.
The sweetest guy? Check.
Godfather references? Check.

Conclusion? Essentially perfect.

And presumably the reason I experience verbal paralysis, and the like. I'm so useless.

...you wouldn't believe how we wow shit out...

I adore my aunt, like a second mother. My mother's sister Behi is absolutely my favorite relative in the world, my favorite person in the world.

Maybe it's the part of me that craves security and peace, or the little girl in me that wants to stay that way forever. Whatever it is I will never get tired of having my aunt call me "dokhmalam" (play on "dokhtaram" - my girl), or having her say how happy she was to have reached me before she says "bye bye joonie".

...paris is not that pretty...

croyez vous aux miracles? [aujourd'hui, non]

I'm sitting in my living room with my roommates, watching MAD TV. There's a strange little skit going on with an anal-retentive traveler who's lost his baggage, inside of which are his "very important papers". The man behind the counter doesn't speak English, just French. The Korean bag-help who says he speaks French only knows how to say "menage a trois" and "sacre bleu!". Everytime the bell rings at the counter, he jumps up and yells "Holla!". That part confused me. Then, we find his bag, and discover Papers is his pet dog. The bag-help yells "Holla!" again then cries "ooooh, le hot dog!" and everyone starts dancing the disco. At this point confusion becomes something infinitely more painful.

Is this what passes for comedy these days? Have we really fallen this far?

i) The most frustrating and difficult part of my vow of silence was watching Jeopardy with my family, and not being able to yell out the answers. They all laughed at me.

ii) "The People of Sparks" by Jeanne DuPrau - a wonderful kids book (9-12), I adored it.

iii) I had a customer from Atlanta this morning, and we spent a half hour speaking about Georgia and how beautiful it is, and I talked her ear off about my eternal love for Savannah, and then she bought four books on my recommendation. It was lovely.

Now there's a new skit. Two women and two transvestites, having a picnic. With muffins.

Oh... It's satiring Desperate Housewives, I gather. Everything is illuminated. It still isn't funny.

...yes, i am an alien from mars...

You would think that maybe my first post since the vow of silence would be a happy one, filled with the elation of being able to speak again. Sorry to say but you're in for a rude awakening.

I promised pictures from the fire, and here they will be. I'm doing this mostly for myself, because I have this shocked, unbelievable need to share born from a) being devastated at what this has done to our home, and b) to hopefully show you what can happen when you aren't absolutely careful in the hopes no one else has to go through it.

But mostly just because I am shocked and need people to be shocked with me, and maybe cry a little bit because my house was beautiful, before.

On that note, pictures taken the day after the fire:

the kitchen

my brother's bathroom, upstairs

some of my mother's art

my piano

Pictures taken today, after the demolition/tear down work was completed:

the kitchen

the foyer stairs


There were happy things which have happened in the past few days, but right now I'm really sad and it seems to overshadow everything else. I'll write something cheerier tomorrow maybe, or the next day. Hope all is well, I feel out of touch with everyone this week.

Is everyone still there?

...chagall...

This is my last post until Friday afternoon -

As of tomorrow morning, I am participating in Journalists For Human Rights' campaign Speak Silence, and I will be staying silent (in all manners, not just vocal) until Friday. No phones, no MSN, no emails, no blogging until then. We are staying silent to acknowledge all victims of human rights abuses worldwide who cannot give voice to their oppression.

I emailed everyone who's email address I have memorized to ask that they please sponsor me in this campaign. I ask the rest of you as well to please sponsor me if you can. It's very easy, and can be done online with a credit card. Your donations will go to ensuring the future work of other students and journalists campaigning to stop human rights oppressions around the world.

JHR is collecting donations on my behalf until Friday at noon. Please go to their website, www.jhr.ca/schoolchapters and click on the Speak Silence link. From there you can click on "Sponsor a Participant" and search my name at University of Toronto.

Thank you so much in advance,

See you Friday,

Love, Sanam

...a contre-courant...

Camped out in Pratt Library until 4:30, in the hopes that I can get my shit together long enough to do some hardcore studying for my bioethics exam tomorrow in the next four hours.

Of course, that would involve me getting off this infernal machine and relocating to a table, in a quiet corner somewhere so.. uh... goodbye.

...carpe! carpe! diem! diem!...

"It's just SEX!" she cries out, exasperated.

Even though he was in love with her.
Even though they were together for a year and a half.
Even though they only broke up three weeks ago.

I have been telling her not to, that he'll get hurt, that she's being selfish. She says she's not his mommy, that she made it clear there were no expectations. But just in case, to make sure he really understood that, she talked to him tonight on the phone for 45 minutes, during which she brought up my own recent kerfuffle with Rene as a comparison, quoting me as having said what she is doing is worse because "neither of us had any expectations about where this was going".

She misquoted me, first of all. I told her that. We had expectations, of course we did BUT as soon as we realised our paths, and what we wanted were different, we stopped anything we were doing. Further, we hadn't been together for over two years, we'd had plenty of time to consider what we wanted. Further MORE, we were never as emotionally invested in each other as she and hers and her year and a half.

"Dude, we're not talking about you and Rene right now". Right, so what was his reaction? Why did you bring it up again? "To make sure he knows it won't lead anywhere".

So there, she's sure. Or at least sure enough to know whether he believes it or not, whether he might get hurt or not, it's not going to stop her. I tell her so. I also tell her that she's like a black widow spider.

"I swear to god, if you get in the way of me and sex, I will CUT you" - manic, like a psycho killer. Like a black widow spider.

*sigh*.

I told her I wouldn't stop her. I'd be going against girlfriend rule #n: Thou shalt not cockblock. Even at the expense of little boys with unsound judgement. Even if he's going to be eaten alive (parden the pun).

"Oh well", I say to her before signing off, "if you are going to go out, what a way to go".

...she looks like a life preserver [blind]...

My room-mates love for Special K knows no bounds - tonight's adventure? She used it in a smoothie, with frozen pineapple and cinnamon. The result was interesting to say the least.

The boy taught my girl Dani how to salsa, to which I died for of such things are my dreams made. He impressed everyone in every way, and Janet's opinion - quality.

So I'm up to my usual tricks, camped out in Robarts but getting nothing done. This is going to be a problem.

...eye of the tiger is rising sun...

Dancing is best done uninhibited, when you are bound by no other thoughts and can let your body flow where it will. But in a social context in which I don't feel completely comfortable, I'm weighed by self-consciousness and can't get a rhythm out of myself if I tried. Which is why I spent most of the night on the couches in the back of the bar chatting with Kris and Sandi, Iman joining us in between songs.

We talked about opera believe it or not, the greatest proof that my colleagues, while dear, are all among the culturally pretentious. I suppose, given where we work, that this is a given. Other topics: theatre, families, the beauty that is G-SUP. Oh holiday staff party, what did you write?

Highlight of the night? Canned Heat by Jamiroquai, for which even I hightailed my fanny to the dancefloor, and tore it down with John.

...i am NOT a 22 year old cocktail waitress...

Boiling down all my anger and frustration into one, completely incomprehensible run on sentence: Arguing the definition of "head games" has nothing to with syntax, philosophy is a barnyard animal (says the man in the blue suit), why are none of my socks in pairs, and don't HIDE behind fictional identities dismantled by geography and fact, you small-dicked (also, brained) miscreant.

In the face of a crazed bioethics exam, I am back to my schedule of two high protein, high-energy, low carb meals a day to a) keep me up, b) prevent sluggishness, and c) prevent the high-stress overeating to which university students have a tendency. Caffeine is present to an inordinately high degree in my blood this afternoon, making me jitterish, irritable but at the same time providing a charming, rosy hue to my face. It might make you think I'm safer to approach than I really am, but do not be fooled.

Do. Not. Mess. With. Me. Today.

...things that make you go hmmm...

i) A bearded lady - truly - who comes in like clockwork twice a week.

ii) It started off with two: two brightly-coloured markered-in hearts in the handicapped washroom at work. One over the change table, one above the toilet. As the week went on, the number of hearts increased, as did the colours of markers used. The count now stands at 14 (as far as we can tell) - they range from being hidden under the toilet seat cover, to being on the lid of the garbage can, or on the door handle as you're leaving. Who is this mystery artiste, and why all the vandalism?

iii) An angry teenage boy got on the subway, decked out in the dark, shredded, haphazard look of the protest-punk/grunge era who looked like the rest of those kids pissed off at some grave injustice in the world, or at least, in music. As I was contemplating this, he whipped out an iPod and put the headphones in. In that one brief moment, any credibility he had held, gone.

iv) The Italian Stallion asks me today if I'll be needing his chivalrous services or his steed at some point tonight (referring, I can only hope to assume, to the fact that he walked me home last night). I laugh a little cynically and say no, he can use his chivalry on someone else. To which he says, "You know, I don't understand all the angst. I'm really confused by all this posturing and hostility. Why are you so wierd with me? What's with all the head games?" The irony of that statement nearly sent me to the floor.

v) Bonnie Tyler's music video for "Total Eclipse of the Heart". What kind of a romantic video combines ninjas in a church, blazing eyes that look more demonic than sensual, and boys in speedos and goggles doing coordinated dance while having buckets of water thrown on them. Add to that the fake wind, billowy white curtains, and Tyler's 80's hair, and you have a truly perplexing musical endeavor.

But on a totally unrelated note, C and C Music Factory's video for "Things That Make You Go Hmm" is truly a work of art. How much do I want to live in that video scenescape? Oh but the fun we would have.

...pretending infidel (oy with the geometry already!)...

In theory at least, I kept my cool and stood my ground. Granted, theory thins out over 800 miles, but I'm up to the challenge. Aren't I always?

But as it turns out, I might not even need to. The following comes from today's horoscope from The Star, which we know is an excellent predictor of things to come: "The crafty stratagems of some are nothing more than selfish, manipulative ploys in their effort to create a more secure world for themselves. There is, however, no real need to confront them, as long as you can see through the game. Especially, as others will soon see the truth, too."

In other news:

i) In his second act of unrequested kindness of the week, the Italian walked me to my destination last night. What is he playing at now?

ii) I got a raise, which means they like me. I didn't get as much as I wanted, which means they don't *love* me.

iii) Cash training today, most probably, and I am going to beg and plead for them to place me with Rob. I heart him, you have no idea. I sparkle when in his vicinity, bask in the glow of his smiles, all the usual cheesiness that accompanies the unrequieted ado-crushes.

iv) Part of me hopes that Steph told her friend to buy me a ticket with them as well for the concert. Part of me won't mind if she forgets. I'm all up for expanding my social boundaries, but the nerve-wracking that would ensue is frustrating. It's like high school, when you got this one completely out of the blue invite to eat lunch with the popular girls, and wanted to take it up but were so scared you'd mess up and they'd hate you, that you said you were busy knowing the invite would never come again, but at least casual indifference is preferable to comic detestation and mockery. They are, hands down, the "cool clique" of work.

...closed captioning provided by...

Five weeks into the new year, I have so far managed to keep my biggest resolution. I think therefore that it is safe to make it public, fairly confident that I can keep it up.

52 books, 52 weeks. That's the resolution. To read one book a week (when able/interested, alternating fiction and non-fiction) for the entire year. The first five books that I have read this year:

i) Rebecca, by Daphne DuMaurier - A beautifully written novel with amazing descriptions; more engaging than Jane Eyre (it's closest literary comparison) but without the polish. A little abrupt and rough around the edges, but so well done you'll forgive it almost anything. The protagonists name is never mentioned, anywhere in the novel, which I find unique.

ii) The Little Girl Who Was Too Fond of Matches, by Gaetan Soucy - An incredible absurd trip, the childlike descriptions are crude and raw but very real; a very quick read for how quickly it grabs you, and the product of a genius (if somewhat disturbed) mind.

iii) Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell - A blend of psych and science, but never too intricately explained that a layperson can't understand it, Blink is about the decisions we make in what seems to be the blink of an eye, but are actually more complex than we think. I love psychology books because of the insight they give into the human mind, and I find myself applying what I read to my own life, and testing it out with myself as the unrepresentative case study.

iv) Girls in Pants, by Ann Brashares - The third book in the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, I loved it because I adore the series, and because Ann had the foresight to bring back Eric, and give my favorite character a Happy Ending. I am a fan of Happy Endings.

v) We Are All The Same, by Jim Wooten - Made me cry like I cannot even describe, but of beauty. So so moving, this is one of the most incredible books I have read in the past year, and I recommend it so highly to everyone. The last book I recommended this highly was A Sunday By The Pool in Kigali, by Gil Courtemanche and if you took my advice on that (and were pleased), I ask you to do the same for this book.

The pile awaiting me beside my bed: Chronicles of a Death Foretold (Marquez), A Short History of Progress (Wright), Islam, Challenge of Democracy (Fadl), News of a Kidnapping (Marquez), The Following Story (Nooteboom) and The Sun Also Rises (Hemingway)

...me and mabel...

I think the second I made Rene sit down and watch Britney Spears: In the Zone last night, he put any thoughts of reconciliation out of his head. I can't help it - she's that hot, and her catchy rhythms just take you over. It's like a sickness.

So that's that, a chapter closed much too long overdue.

This morning around 11, I'm getting my things together to leave when the fire alarm goes off. The strangest fire alarm ever, sounded like a hypermanic doorbell, with flashing lights inside the apartment and out. In boxers and my Esprit sweater, I went downstairs in socks - everyone looked at me funny because they all managed to remember coats. That would have been nice.

What also would have been nice? If he lived on the third floor and not the twenty third.

...emphasis unmanaged...

Daniel woke up this morning sick with a flu, and missing a voice. I gave him two Tylenol cold, he took some vitamins, and hopefully will rest throughout the day. I also took out some chicken noodle soup, if he wants some later. Because as we all know, chicken soup cures everything.

The thing with Daniel is he's so sweet and happy and easygoing, that when he's sick or sad you have to do everything you can to make him better. He's more adorable than my nephew, and that's saying something.

...thinking i was so cool...

maybe everything was written in a book;
written, bound, then somehow lost
to years, the gently pressing weight of time's hand

and all we had to do was find it
buried as it was under a gossamer web
of passing moments in changing lands.

don't you wonder where we would be
had we found the text of our existence
and followed carefully, carefully
along the paths laid carefully, carefully
before us; if the prudence
and wisdom of the world really was ours to see?

maybe we were meant to be entrusted
to the capable hands of space and time,
and everything had been planned

but the plan was missed, never read
since written and bound, was somehow lost
to years and now where we stand,
a new road is at hand.

The other day some friends were talking about music, love for music, downloading music, do we still buy music, etc. and I found myself saying "Of course people still buy music - I mean, my boyfriend has almost 700 CD's in his collection".

(stunned silence, mostly on my part)

The problem with no-strings attached relationships is that the longer they last, the more involved you get despite your own best intentions. Add a couple of more complicated twists to the tale - i.e. ex-boyfriend, wants to get back together, he gives you a key to his place, you've been spending more time with him lately than anyone else - and you have one very confused little girl. Who suddenly called him her boyfriend.

I need to stick to my original thoughts on the matter: no-strings, physical involvements are bad. They are never good. Ever. I have no intentions of getting back together with him, fine. That means I don't see him. Period. Otherwise madness ensues. I decided this yesterday, and I was very firm on the matter.

And yet, there's a -HUGE- part of me which just wants to say... uhh... yeah, let's just keep doing this.

...dictionary of philosophy...

In honour of the rapidly-approaching Valentine's Day

Reasons why I love Rachel:
- Hot Brandon's demotion (after Anthony came into the picture) into Reasonably Good-looking Brandon
- walking into the closet door
- her adventures with my concierge and difficulty with visitor's parking
- Me: Can I *finish* this please?
Rachel: "i.e. This is not your essay, Rachel" (even though it *was* in fact her essay)

Reasons why I love my friends:
- They keep me chilling and grooving
- Chinese dumplings
- Name-dropping, even all the way from the East Coast
- Bringing me to the Hot Spots in town (i.e. Salad King)

Reasons why I love George Michael:
- do I really need to list them all?

Reasons why I love Valentine's Day (a history):
- 4 red roses for 4 months, I still have them, dried.
- an espionage attempt, with my roommate co-conspirator, a few days early
- my first Valentine's Day, 16 and my dad's glaring expression

I'm just... all full of love. As we should all be - revel in it, and maybe if we all loved each other the world could be happy. How's that for cheese?

...in the cut...

Few things are more dangerous than insecure people who think of themselves as powerless, but who are, in fact, powerful. You have the skills to deal with a troublesome someone.

~The Star horoscope

...gardening notes...

i) Bahaha... silly rabbit, I can see you so clearly: sitting in the library between classes, killing time because you have no friends or other entertainment, leaving sad messages for me. Put your efforts to better use - walk over to Church street, shell out 20 bucks, get it out of your system and stop jonesing a never-happening.

ii) Vote for the 2005 Bloggies - the deadline is Thursday, go to it. And while you're there, make sure to vote for my cousin Sam's dailydoseofimagery as best photoblog of the year.

iii) Burned to a crisp: Chopin, the complete waltzes.

iv) They were mentioning something about Ostrachies. And apparently the girl was a bitch, too.

...selected music for piano frmo the carl fischer music library...

The reason Sideways won't win an Oscar (should there be any cinematic justice in the world): the shameless dropping of Sandra Oh's character in the end without any resolution to her storyline. They should be shot.

Not as funny as expected.

Paul Giamatti is a sad man.

But there was a chase scene involving a golf club. That was worth it.

...every friday at the hollywood...

Christ, this city needs a public transit transformation in the biggest way. This morning, 8:30a.m. and it takes me half an hour to take the College streetcar from Yonge to Beverley. There is no occasion when that is okay.

I should have just walked.

But I was tired. Three hours of sleep, now class, then work - it is going to be a long day.