...overheard in Pratt...

Girl on Phone: Sorry Kath... it sounds like you're feeling certain amounts of alienation and unfulfillment. I know how that is, it's really shitty. And it's really shitty to get a bad haircut on top of that.

I want to rip this girl's head off. Violent I know, but I think valid. She's speaking on the courtesy phone, loudly, in an obnoxious jappy voice in the FUCKING LIBRARY. People should die.

...side of the road...

Want to know a secret?

I got the gig with The Star. This week is preliminary themes and deadlines, and intro panic. I'm going to pick Laura's mind on Saturday, and freak out a little bit.

Hurray!

...a bright weaving...

Sunday night it occurred to me that Guy Gavriel Kay lives in Toronto, how come I have never run into him here? Or seen him on the street? Or somewhere I happen to be?

Tonight he was in my store, in my section, with his son (who he says is the reader in the family), looking for books. I saw him, recognized him, and was instantly overcome with... something. Awe, beauty, an odd longing - not romantic - to be transported. As if into the worlds he creates that are so real to me.

I asked him if he was who he was, and he said yes, he is who he is. I introduced myself, he introduced his son. I told him I had seen him at Hart House two years ago reading from Beyond This Dark House, and again at Hart House for The Christmas Carol reading. I said I loved his books.

Which wasn't a complete sentence. I wish I could have explained myself more clearly to him without frightening him in front of his child. I wish I could have said that if he asked me to, I could draw from my imagination a complete map of Gorhaut or Arbonne; could name the gods and goddesses of Fionavar; could recount breathlessly and in tears the tragic love story of Brandin and Dianora. I would have said that I have never felt more akin to a character than I did to Lisseut. Comically and ironically (though I sometimes somehow believe it), I might mention that he may very well be the reason I have never kept a long-lasting relationship; that I am still waiting for a calm, noble man to say to me "Bright star of Eanna, you are the harbour of my soul's journeying".

When I heard him read at Hart House a couple of years ago, I was stunned at the beauty and the gentle, clever humour of his poems, and the love in them. Afterwards, there was an opportunity to have him autograph our books, and nearly everyone there was holding a crisp, newly minted copy of "Beyond This Dark House" and I held in my hands a time-worn, bare and battered copy of "A Song for Arbonne", long since my favorite of his books. The woman next to me looked at me oddly, as if it was offensive that I wasn't bringing his new book up with me, the one he had just spent an hour reading from. Which I didn't understand - I think I was an author, I would want to see a book that has been read over and over, and know that someone else sees how real these characters are, and has journeyed with them.

Peter, seeing my reaction and state, suggested I invite him to autograph his books, since we did have them all. I went to do just that, and was interrupted by an obnoxious customer looking for, of all things, the new Oprah's pick; this, in the face of my great literary meeting of the day, I could not accept. I helped her, quickly, but even as I was doing so I saw Guy Gavriel Kay ascend the escalator and, with a quick wave at me, leave the store.

My heart.

...on election...

Well Stephen Harper made it. He's the new Prime Minister of Canada, at least he will be made so in the next 10 days or so. I have mixed feelings about the results of the election. My personal opinion is he is the devil. But I'm not that pessimistic about what the new parliament will be like. For one thing, it's a very tight minority government. It will likely not last very long, maybe 2 years, especially if Harper tries to push through on some of his harder, more controversial stances. I think at that point the chance of a non-confidence vote will be high. But as long as he sticks to the more-centre issues like his GST tax cuts, this might actually work out okay. There's some great opposition still in place both from the Liberals and the NDP, experienced politicians who are going to be very influential in the face of mostly-rookie conservative members. Many of the strongest Liberal cabinet ministers held onto their seats (including my favorite, Bill Graham). The new government will be more accountable, more balanced, and more transparent than anything we have seen recently when the Liberal stronghold actually worked against Canadian democratic interests, I found - I mean, decisions were more likely to be made by Paul Martin and his cronies, and passed through party agreement. When the government is as precarious as Harper's is bound to be, he will have to make a strong effort to keep the confidence of the people around him.

Another thing that is really interesting is that the Liberals (or NDP, orBQ) held onto their seats in some very important cities; Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal, whereas many of the more rural cities had stronger Tory support. That will be a balancing tension of its own.

So I don't know - it's a wait and see situation. See how far Stephen Harper will exercise his power, and in what direction. It is a very interesting time though now in Canada, worth watching.

Also, from his HFTS:

Virgo (Aug. 23 — Sept. 22)
It's time for a rest. By consciously electing to ignore life's supposedly pressing matters, you are neither running away nor are you copping out. It will bring a vital chance to see the big picture.

What are you TALKING about? Clearly it is both running away AND copping out.

...greyhound station...

Singing: Soul Meets Body

"...and if the silence takes you, then I hope it takes me too..."

I'm running into cute boys all over the city. I can enjoy them! Feeling liberated in nice weather, with a big purse and a new hat. Today is a good day.

...suit your physique...

NBC has announced the cancellation of The West Wing. I think we can fairly reasonably conclude that Jody is completely to blame for all of this. I mean, this was our show. We watched it, followed it, devoured the DVD's and lived and breathed it. Jed Bartlett is the president of the USA dammit. Then, a week after he breaks up with me, the show gets cancelled?

The situation seems obvious to me.

I could forgive the breakup pretty readily. I don't think I could forgive losing West Wing.

In other news, please vote tomorrow. As long as you're not voting Conversative. Because if you are... no one wants your vote.

...kiss-cheek...

Kris: So, you don't drink, you don't do drugs, and you don't worship. How do you escape your own head?

How do I escape my own head? Reading, writing, dancing, and engaging in reckless behaviour with boys. How does anyone else do it?

There's a theory that women use italics in writing, and even to an extent in speaking, more than men do because they are worried that what they are saying will not be taken seriously, or in the right way; that italics are necessary to direct the conversation to where they intend it to go, as if it wouldn't get there otherwise. There's a theory that this is because women recognize an inherent inferiority in themselves when they speak with men, and so use italics to compensate.

...missing: one moral compass...

Uh oh.

...controversial broccoli...

Tonight was the first lecture of Semiotic Anthropology and the introduction of one of those rare profs who is both brilliant and charismatic. And, although this is obviously irrelevent, very handsome. With a slight Spanish accent. There is absolutely nothing about this that is bad, with the exception of the fact that he's a married professor and so out of the bounds of fair play.

I couldn't help thinking about language and communication systems today, and the most basic tenet of semiotics which is that sign systems are not limited to language at all. It brought to mind the cliques of high school and certain signifiers of those cliques. Things as arbitrary as grey sweatpants tucked into Macgregor socks. Obviously those couldn't be the only signifier of a particular clique otherwise everyone would be a member - but yet it was integral to the classification. And it seemed to me that even those nonclique students who wore grey sweatpants were hesitant about how they did it. As if they didn't want to appear to be trying to get in; as if they knew they were trespassing. So the sweatpants in this case would be over the socks, and instead of tevas or flip flops, she would wear canvas shoes, maybe.

I want to go back to Thornhill and watch the kids for a semester. See if I am right about this - see to what extent nonverbal signs work to communicate status and social organization, and to what extent the students are consciously aware of it.

...direct from simpletown...

I am chatting with my ex-boyfriend on MSN. I don't know if this is either a) good, or b) healthy.

Earlier I had my first Pol Theory class of the new term with my funny Turkish TA who I sometimes can't take seriously, because I'm Persian, and who sometimes I am crazy about because he is so smart, and when he speaks he's so animated like a movie.

...there is not the slightest excuse for plum or puce...

In a pile of things I'd retrieved from his apartment, and through which I only began sorting today, I found a pair of his boxer-briefs neon yellow fringed with green, and a note attached with a paperclip: "You always looked cuter in these than I did". Because of which I blew up at him today - apparently he did not know how out of line that was, did not consider that maybe I wouldn't be jumping at the chance to wear his underwear around the house, however cute I was (and I was very cute) in them once upon a time, since hereafter everything associated with him has become once upon a time. Boys are stupid.

--------------------

I answered a month's worth of phone messages on Saturday (read: 7) and one of them was from a former colleage of mine at the NGO I used to work at. As I pressed save, vowing to return her call on Monday, I briefly wondered what that was about. I called her back as planned today, and found out - a writing opportunity as a Junior Journalist with the Toronto Star for 6 months, starting February. Hurray! Two days to decide whether to take it on or not. I would love to but am secretly afraid of writer's block and deadlines and poor spelling and sounding silly.

--------------------

After making a salad tonight which featured lots of minced onion, the female component of the household all let loud with advice on how to get the smell off my hands. My mother's advice was to douse my hands with lime juice. My grandmother's: flour. My aunt suggested washing with soap, as per usual, but while doing so rub my hands vigorously against the stainless steel basin. My cousin thought the trick was cold water, instead of hotter. Confused, yet intrigued, I combined all the suggestions. Except the flour. That's just silly.

P.S. We won't be staying friends, I realized as soon as I heard him say "I don't know. I feel like suddenly when I wasn't looking, this became serious". What. The Fuck. It has been almost a YEAR. You didn't think this was serious?

...oh darlin', baby darlin'...

I feel Southern. I'm playing and researching, catching up on school and when required to speak at all (to my grandmother, now living with us, for example or to my aunt, here for the day) it comes out drawling.

I think I was meant to live in Savannah. Maybe someday I still will.

There was a party missed this weekend, because I crashed from jetlag and never made it out. Come hell or high water, this weekend's will not be missed. Right?

Talking to Saba this morning about drama and wanting it. When did we grow up? Why is the sky still blue? Why aren't the storm clouds spiralling angry to reflect my internal state? Why hasn't Jody succumbed to the lightning bolt of my inner desirings?

Maybe because I don't actually desire him to be electrocuted. Not just yet anyway. Maybe.

...cane pimpin'...

You know I said this after my last big breakup two years ago, and I'll say it again now - I will never understand the phenomenon that turns the people you are in a relationship with into a stranger after it is over. Maybe it's brought about by the disbelief you have that they ended the relationship, and for what reasons.

There's a Starbucks gift card burning a hole in my wallet - I'm supposed to be on a postexcessivechelokabob diet but I'm sad. So I want a tall-nowhip-peppermint mocha. Now please.

...jane smith has cancelled the relationship...

This isn't a post. This is just... insomnia.

...half-light...

Oh jetlag, how you do go on...

So. Back in Toronto and dying to see people but I am without a cell phone, that currently being still in my ex's possession. Trying to reach him today but without success, realizing he had a court date this morning and that is probably why (note to self: next boyfriend should preferably not have court dates).

The first thing I did yesterday upon landing at Pearson, after spending 1.5 hours filing an insurance claim with Alitalia and complaining to service because of a) a ripped suitcase with items having fallen out, and b) another suitcase soaked with something that ended up staining the clothes inside, was to buy a blessed cup of coffee from the Tim Hortons on the Arrivals deck. I think that was a brilliant move on the airport's part, recognizing the importance of Tim Horton's coffee to homecomers and Canadian identity.

I was disappointed on two fronts though. First, it took me almost 15 mintes to move 6 spaces in line. That is unusual for Tim Hortons, as anyone can tell you. They are usually known for expedience. Second, there was a pilot from Air Canada behind me in line who was obviously late for her job and I let her ahead of me. Instead of thanking me, she complained about the line continuously and was really mean to the boy behind the counter. I wanted to yell at her - "HEY. You represent Canada in that outfit and there are tourists present. Smile, dammit, it is what we DO".

Tourists: It really is what Canadians do. We smile. And are nice.

...where's the snow?...

I haven't been back in the country 6 hours and already my Blog Number 2 has been mysteriously deleted, and my boyfriend and I have broken up. This was not the homecoming I was anticipating.

There's a lot of mixed feelings going on right now. No questions asked, this was the right decision (we're talking boyfriend, not blog). Our forever pictures were not the same, and sooner I think is better than later in terms of breaking things off. At the same time, there are some things I am going to miss terribly. Summer afternoons in parks, cooking together when on a healthy kick, running to McDonalds in the middle of the night when we weren't. We do get along very well, and who knows, maybe this means this can be the first ex I can keep as a friend. I would truly like that.

I'm feeling rational but melancholy.

Also wondering if I should still give him the souvenirs I brought him from Iran. What's the policy on that? Does anyone know? I say anyone hypothetically because I know it's likely no one will even see this post, since the blog was ostensibly stopped.