Wednesday, June 28, 2006

...here's to taking you to the kitchen...

From Phil: "Sometimes, to live in hope can be better than to live in fulfilment — especially when you know that the hope is eventually going to be justified. And it is."

Which means that it's okay if I don't see you tonight, because I'll see you again. Or something like that.

Monday, June 26, 2006

...channeling modest mouse...

I'm relaxing at home after working a ridiculous 6 days in a row - it is coming on two in the afternoon and I have yet to get out of my pajamas. They are pale blue, printed with Winne the Pooh, original illustrations. I watched the last part of Pride and Prejudice; Law and Order, General Hospital and a couple episodes of Buffy. I am thoroughly enjoying being horizontal today, no standing for me!

Sunday, June 25, 2006

...you're not the one for me...

I sold Michael Ignatieff his own book today, and it was so odd. He asked for the "Rights Revolution" and I wasn't sure if I should recognize him or not, but inside I was wondering whether he shouldn't be able to get copies for free whenever he wanted. Random incidents of Sunday.

The purple hat lady showed up again, and left me in shakes afterward. What a vile human being. I glared at the lower cash girls afterwards, for not rescuing me; and told Jason who she was in case she returned.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

...millie makes it better...

It's because everybody needs a break. Also, because you could be having a bad day, and then someone will message you and say "Sanam! I'm in T.O!!!" and then you're sad that you have to go to bed because your head is throbbing but thrilled you might get a visitor on Thursday or Friday or Saturday. This is what friends do, mood-altering golden rocks. This has actually been a good week for that, since the universe gave me a British glam queen that I was dying to see and it was fantastic because nothing had changed. Picked up nearly even on the same uptake of laughter we said goodbye on, picked up and drank/talked girly/laughed pretty for 8 hours yesterday. As if that wasn't enough, today I got this message from Sheida, and again! A foreign (not really) visitor is in my city for me. And maybe everything else stinks, worse than it's ever stunk before (not really... but it feels like it) except for this, which doesn't stink at all, and in fact smells of roses.

...the whole row is going home...

A couple people told me I wasn't myself today; last night they just thought I was "absent", another stratisphere. But I'm me and I'm here - I'm just not happy here. That's all. It isn't contextual, not very much anyway, so it isn't really that I am not happy "here" as in a place I can leave. It's a situation, a feeling, a time - it's just a statement of fact.

This is really random but I have to wonder how PETA feels about commercials like the dancing angus beef cow who thinks he's one; or the one where the chocolate cows are fighing for their rights. The line "what did I win" combined with the dancing and with the associated mental image of a juicy steak is just creepy; as is the line "don't hate me because I'm delicious". You know?

I'm exploding, I feel so restless and pent up with something. It's happening again, this ridiculous thing where I can't calm down, falling mad and making messes.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

...running on full...

Trying to convince a Washingtonienne to come for a visit - the girl is one of my closest family friends in the world, a younger sister I love to death. She lost her father last year to cancer, and I lost one of the funniest, brightest, most talented and caring people in my world. Today, father's day, and all the days leading up to it have been very difficult for her, and she was the first thing on my mind this morning. So I told her to take a break, take a load off and come to Toronto for a little while, where we will run in sprinklers, and shop, and go on rollercoasters and have an essentially fantastic time. I hope she takes me up on it please.

I'm so bored today, I can't even describe. I read a book and a half, napped for two hours, and just sat. And continue to sit. My doctor took a look at the leg this morning and it's not in such a good shape. The bruising and swelling had me convinced of that before I even went in, but still. I didn't even do anything! Not yesterday anyway. It was sore post-baseball but I wasn't having any trouble doing anything. Such a ridiculous mis-movement last night that just finished it, and now I'm down for the count. By which I mean, a couple days because I can't handle any more than that. I'm not so much a stay inside and do nothing kind of person. It doesn't really work for me.

Le sigh.

Why isn't anyone calling me today? I have no end of missed calls when I'm working; the one day I'm not, no one is around. I demand entertainment. Or something.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

...the sissy duckling...

Had a bit of a disaster. Dressed to the nines, bent down on my knees to grab my shoes from the back of the closet, felt something in my right thigh stretch then collapse, and I fell over onto my side, like those guys when they get kicked in the junk. Stayed on the ground for 20 minutes waiting for my mom to realise I never came back upstairs after I told her I was going out and could I have a ride? Finally sucked it up and used my arms to pull myself up, and shuffled up the stairs where I opened the door to my dad's office (dramatic dramatic) and promptly burst into tears.

The panicked aftermath of my family seeing me in tears took up another 20 minutes, followed by a call to my cousin doctor (not home) then telehealth ontario. After logistics covered (no ER, see a doctor within 24 hours) I realized I was supposed to meet Iman 21 minutes ago, was to be at Melissa's party 8 minutes from now, reached Melissa but Iman's cell phone is off, and this is where our story ends. With me and my ice pack still on the floor because I can't be upright, but perversely cannot be on a chair either. The state of having my knee bent, while in a chair, is doing something painful to my leg.

And I'm still dressed to the nines. Although my make-up has been cried off. Such a wimp.

...you deserve it, too...

The same thing I hate about dating Iranian men, is the same thing I hate about watching them play soccer - a group of arrogant drama queens who spend more time diving and earning penalties than actually playing the game. I have never seen so many fouls called during a game before; too many stops.

And when they weren't falling over themselves, they were misdirecting passes, tripping over their own dribbling or becoming so confident in their dribbling they shoot forward without the ball, feet still moving pretending smooth. Like my dad said after one particularly ridiculous footwork attempt after a corner kick: "Ay pantar, baz toop-oh ja gozashti!"

It's over kids - not that the dream was ever really alive. How many times has an Iranian team full of potential completely choked? Nothing new, nothing different.

...you deserve it...

It started with the lightbulb on the fan unit above my stove - one week it was there, the next gone. Then it was the cover on top of the bathtub drain, which disappeared sometime in the last little while. Tonight I came home and saw the top shelf on my bookcase resting on the one below, a couple of books fallen haphazardly on the ground, and the two screws meant to be holding the shelf up, gone.

I thought the only thing wrong with my place was centipedes. But it seems I also have a hardware-happy poltergeist. Or centipedes doing renovations?

I'm so confused.

Something else that confused me: Someone found my blog today by googling "summer pedicure photos muslim sexy toes". God help us all.

Friday, June 16, 2006

...italian pop music...

I was about to launch into a TiG critical discussion of Habbo Hotel, recently expanding it's reach through my store, when I had the feeling I should check with Phil first. This is what he had for me:

It would make more sense for you now to watch and wait till a target is actually in your sights than it would to fire your missile at a distant blur. You must first get all your facts straight, your plan rehearsed and your act together.

So I guess Habbo is safe from my acerbic commentary for another day. I will turn my focus then to charities gone corporate, and why I want no part. Read: A new project aimed at teaching sixth graders to affect their world through their food selections (?) with the support of and association with the Atkins Foundation.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

...not a saint...

Four weeks until I visit Cody - I so need a few days with a sane person who is completely without drama. I'm getting tired of people. They keep coming at me, when I want them to roll off. I don't need a life story. I just want to do my thing, and you do your thing, and sometimes they'll mesh but really there is no reason why they should. Somehow in the space of a few weeks I went from that happy chick in the store to that happy chick in the store (who is secretly annoyed with everyone). And the "secretly" is just a very skimpy veil. I don't think I'm fooling anyone, anyone who pays attention that is.

Speaking of paying attention: looks like some people are paying attention after all. But completely to the wrong thing, and completely with the wrong interpretation. I am reminded of that joke about new doctors, where they hear hoofbeats and think zebra, not horse? Well. It's a fucking horse! Give me some credit. Please.

I don't want you to think everything about my day was bad though - it actually wasn't half bad at all.

i) cash training - I figured, after almost two years it was about time. And this time I didn't even wait for them to come after me, I requested it (read: initiative). Did it, it wasn't scary, though my hands shook the whole time, and I wasn't half bad. Only one mistake in two hours. AND I came up with a catchphrase, my very first day. See the policy is you lock your till whenever you step away from it, and whenever there aren't any customers you walk away from it to do some tasking. At the point where we had no customers, I turned to Lisa and said "Ok Lise, let's lock and roll". Get it? 'Cuz "rock and roll"? Oh forget it.

ii) Shakira hair - that's right, I had it. I don't know what happened actually. But somehow I woke up with Hot Hair, and upon seeing it Caro forbid me ever to straighten it again. Well dear, if it was always this gorgeous there would be no problem. Unfortunately it happens once in a blue moon (oooh or full moon, there was one this week) - the rest of the time, it is in a messy bun or messier something else.

iii) Seeing the crush - Retardedly brief, and not even a little sufficient but I ran into him on my way home and we had a conversation. By which I mean, this is how it went:

Me: Hey!
Him: Hey, you heading home? Have a good night.
Me: You too! When are you done your work?
Him: About an hour or so to go.
Me: Oh. Okay... well um. Bye.
Him: Bye

But I mean. It's something right? Quel desastre.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

...see you when you get there...

There was a small incident last night where I fell apart and spent two hours crying on the phone to Rachel. I don't really know what brought it on, nor what finally made it pass but I couldn't get ahold of myself, and I couldn't see anything but the fact that everything was wrong with everything and nothing was ok. Eventually something must have been ok though because almost as suddenly and without warning as it had arrived, it passed and we were making summer plans.

On the last page of a new book by NRB, read in advance, is the following sentence: "It's all crazy. And there will always be things I can't erase. But I think the best I can do is defy the craziness for as long as I can. And live. And be happy." And it was funny to me that I finished the book today when that is exactly how I generally feel, and how I act.

I thought afterwards though that maybe it isn't the most wise of mentalities. If you defy the crazy, won't it all catch up to you at the end? Isn't that only logical? So what's the alternative? Because ignoring whatever it is that gets me when it gets me doesn't seem the best solution when after a few months of trying, I end up paralysed with panic and sadness for hours on end. Bottle-burst and all that.

Things to think about.

...bursts...

From Phil Booth:

Improvement is on the way, partly through your own effort and partly through the intervention of serendipity Rachel.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

...way to be...

Iran may have choked in the WC today, but my store's resident Iranian contributed to an undisputed victory in every game this afternoon and redeemed the nation somewhat. Today was so wonderful - outside all day playing in the company baseball tournament (in which we won, undefeated champions). It wasn't even about the winning (but we did win, undefeated, champions), but about how great it was to have everyone from different stores around each other playing, having a good time. There were hot dogs, and balloon animals, and carnival games! I kicked Samdo's butt going through an obstacle race in a bouncy castle. This is one of those times where being short was a plus - I could slide under, climb through, and leap over things much easier than her tall self.

We played hard, lots of fun - R had bought old school "Big League Chews" and sunflower seeds; and I even hit the ball a few times before being knocked out halfway through the tourney with a pulled muscle. I'm not very good, BUT I am enthusiastic and in a setting like this what matters is just "being" and going for it, not winning (though we did win every game, a few of them sweeps).

I don't care what you say - it's not a corporation, it's a community. I mean. It's both. But it's definately a community. Connections like that = the answer to everything.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

...the kids are alright...

The only reason I continued emailing him back last night was because of the line "maybe I was having doubts about the decision", which killed me inside, briefly. What does it mean that he was having doubts? Is he still? I was desperate to find out. So we email-chatted a few times, back and forth. What we've been up to in the past few months, how we're doing. It took a couple different things to get me back onto the right track: remembering why I have spent the past month angry, thinking about who he is and the neediness and insecurity, thinking about who I am and how I have been the last few months (read: happy, busy, light), and talking to Claire who was incredible. She reminded me of many things that I never forgot but sometimes you need reminding, you know? Most of all she reminded me that I am in an incredibly sexy city and why am I giving this even a thought when I should be thriving here?

She was right. And just like that I stopped the thread - it may have been a little rude even, not answering like that, but I can't be bothered. So instead I went shopping, drinking, drugging, and into a wonderful land of video-gaming all night. Oh thumb callous, you have served me well.

On a side note - in my drug induced haze I started thinking about Conker's Bad Fur Day which just might be the single best thing to have ever been created. Not one of the people I hung out with last night had heard of it, so Alex and I went tripping down to Videotron to find it and add it to our night of 3D platform revelry. Sadly, no one rents N64 games anymore, so I was bereft. But has anyone other than me and the Middies played this game? It is both brilliant and hysterical: funny and clever, totally obscene, but that never compromises its "gameyness". Great sound and graphics, dialogue, action, fluid fluid scene development. It's one of those where you don't want to stop until you have finished the game, and that is dangerous. So. The point is, go find it and play. And think of me.

Friday, June 09, 2006

...frozen ghost...

Oh, wow.

These guys are incredible.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

...for draft purposes...

Things are click- click- clicking and I am realizing things. That is the first thing. The second thing was this: how incredible, how things happen sometimes!

The train to Montreal was random - as I was settling in my seat, I saw a familiar mop of brown hair approaching. It was a Shilan! He sat across the aisle from me, and I convinced the man next to me to switch seats with him so we could catch up. We went through the past three years in a nutshell and moved on to everything from politics, Marx, the "real" Marxist (aka Trotsky), philosophy, relationships, high school, Grosman, and back to relationships (because there was a lot of ground to cover there). We talked the entire trip, 5 hours and it was wonderful. Three quarters into the trip I saw a familiar cool bohemian lady walk by on the way to the washroom, recognized her as Swig's mom Jane. I immediately thought how amazing it would be if Swig and her mom were going to Montreal for the weekend to see her brothers, and we were on the same car. So I called her. She wasn't on the train, just her mother was - but I went over to say hi, and that was lovely too. More randomness.

I'm absolutely exhausted right now. I would stay on more, but I slept 4 hours last night and chatted through my designated nap time on the train. So these are the messages I will leave for people:

i) Sheida, I'm here - call me. St. Laurent/Rachel is where I am staying.
ii) Farnam - what? 11:30 what? I couldn't make your message out.
iii) P. - yeah, I'm a nerd. An adorable nerd, but a nerd nonetheless. I google words to make sense of them, and then they give funny answers.

...chorai, chorai...

My ipod being broken, I searched madly for the portable cd player I used so loyally before becoming a slave to the little white plastic box. I didn't find it, but I did find a pair of ankle-less socks (right when I was lamenting the fact that I had no more) in a shoebox of memories from ex-bf #2 and decided if I didn't remember why they made it into the box, they could be taken out. I still would need music for the train up to Montreal, and called three friends about borrowing theirs but no one was home. I took my ipod and whacked it against my desk a couple of times in joking frustration. Something possessed me to turn it on after that, and miracle of miracles it worked. A sign? I have to think so. Because last night I went to Casino Niagara and broke even, completely even. So maybe it means that in the scheme of the world, I won't win but I won't lose anything either.

I say that, but also last night I had a Moment of Realization. And it wasn't necessarily in my favour. Yet. The universe still has one chance to let me break even.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

...i think your argument is specious...

I wrote and rewrote this post several times and erased every attempt to organize my rampaging thoughts. They have ranged from questioning coincidences, pouring compassion and residual care, criticising said compassion and residual care, and determining to stay true to my sensibilities. But like I said, I erased it all, because each time I wound in circles so convoluted that they made sense to no one but me. Each time it was a badly written rephrasing of something that sounded like it came straight out of Friends...

"I know that you know that I know that you know I know..."1


1. Sorry Javod, no footnotes for this one.

...the dutch will find it...

E for president! Or, if not that, then manager!

HarperCollins sent me books today, a bunch of them. This the same day that I bought a bunch myself. I love the fact that I actually have time to read them all (except for two, which I am giving away). I have three emails to send, a Grosman to visit tomorrow, and I have to remember to run back into work at some point tomorrow afternoon to book off July 2nd for Vanessa's baby shower. I'm so retardedly excited. On Thursday, I am seeking insight from my kids ladies to put together a basket for her. Hurray!

In the new commercial for the Special K challenge to maintain your ideal body weight, the main "character" is referred to as Little Suzy. Is that a sign? Is the universe sending me fat signs on the day of the devil? Figures.

...you deserve a better dressed girlfriend...

I've had an intermittent ongoing headache for two and a half days, big pain not small. I still have to go to work today though I didn't make it through the day yesterday at school - I did the spelling tests and edited the journals, and left at recess. Went home for 10:15, and decided to sleep it off. Waking up at around 2 in the afternoon, my first thought was about how odd the dream I had was. Odd in it's implausibility, although in content a little as well. It was a narrative dream, there was a story and the story, in some places, got very interesting. It's the subject that made me go hmmm. Why him? Why not the "other" him? The one I have been non-stop everyday thinking about (for the past couple of weeks, at least).

Well I just chalked it up to not being able to control your dreams. I would have left it at that except when I came home later that night after some drinking and hanging out, I went straight to bed where I proceeded to have another interesting dream, this time about the "other" him. Which could mean that you really do dream about people you are thinking about, which would mean that the first time around I was dreaming about someone I was thinking about. But I haven't been thinking about him. Have I?

Leanne's party last night was lovely - a good crowd, though I didn't stay long. Derelito stopped by and I stole him for a walk, and we took a meander down Dundas towards Chinatown, stopped at McDonalds on the way for chicken mcnuggets to go. It was good to see him. AND Nick called me yesterday, AND I spoke to Deanna, AND Melissa - so friend-wise my day was just great.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

...goodnight and take care...

Sigh.

That had me more disappointed than it should have. Disaster. Going to bed now - head is achy.

...aye mardom, mordam!...

Oh, heavens. Last night just took my breath away. Farnam, Ellie, their mom and I went to see Googoosh at the ACC. This was my first time seeing her live, the last couple of times I had been out of Toronto and missed both shows. I can't even describe what it did to me. With all due respect to concert goers everywhere, but you have not seen a concert until you have seen someone comparable to her perform.

She is more than a singer - Googoosh represents something charming and beautiful and free for an entire generation of people, and their children. She was in my parents time not mine, but I swear when she got on that stage, spread her arms and sang "Beshno, hamsafar-e man!"1, I had tears in my eyes, and a hand over my heart. You knew she was about to embark on a journey into the past, and she was taking you with her. She was completely taking us over.

Several times during the show, Farnam and I actually went into raptures, singing along, with all her dramatic hand movements, reaching for something she was offering: Man Amadeam, Kavir - oh when she sang all the "khodaia"'s in Kavir I thought my heart would explode -, Hamsafar... all these wonderful classics. She even sang many of the songs Shamaizadeh wrote for her, despite the copyright lawsuit they are in. She strung most of them into remixed medley's which I thought brilliant because I think it got her around the lawsuit, and she just has *so* many classics that if she sang them all in full we would have been there all night.

The only thing I would wish would have been for her to end with a breathtaking showstopper, one of her special songs, one of *those* songs. I didn't know the last song she performed with Mehrdad, it was something new and shad, which is fine but I went last night to remember. It didn't matter though, the finale in my head was amazing as the whole show ran through my ming and I sang my own "khodaia"'s all the way to the subway...


1. Listen, my fellow traveller.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

...in the black...

On a field-trip to the used book store yesterday to scout out some out of prints I need to finish my honours paper - a lady is standing by the counter trying to remember the name of the Pulitzer Winner from some random year a couple decades ago. The man at the counter doesn't know, and doesn't have a computer on which to look it up. He suggests that she run across the street to [insert corporate bookstore name here], look it up on their computers, then run back and he'll try to find it for her used.

I pipe in at this point - "As an employee of [said corporate bookstore] I resent that". "And yet, here you are slumming in the used books with the rest of us", she says. "Hey, kettle!".

Bahahahahah. It's true. And I laughed with her. But inside, I still glared.

...reminiscing...

Interestingly enough, I have spent the better part of the evening thinking about what it means to "crush" on someone. Someone asked, and this is my answer I suppose, in all it's convolutedness. The topic certainly is no stranger to me, as everyone who knows me is well aware. I crush constantly, and move from one to the next with utter seamlessness. It means close to the same thing to me now as it did when I was 12, or 15 but these days I act differently in its presence. I think to best explain my views, I will give a brief retrospective:

When I was 12 I was walking up the stairs to my class and saw Johnny A., the noble 9th grader, at his locker. He turned to his friends Peter K and Nik D. and flashed the most gorgeous smile. A decade later, I still remember that smile. It completely did me in and I spent the next year and a half thinking about him; about him on the volleyball team, playing soccer with the guys at recess, and that afternoon of magic, the only day he ever spoke to me. He was walking past me on his way home from school and I was working on a project on clown fish on the playground - he stopped, and asked me about them. I told him about this wondrous fish that works in harmony with the anemone to trap and poison bigger fish, securing food for them both. "Harmony", he said, "I like that". And again that smile, as he walked away. Two days later I was walking down the steps in my house when the most terrible thought hit me: I was never, not ever, going to be with Johnny. He just would never be interested. I sat right where I was in the middle of the stairs and started crying; my first heartbreak1.

People have asked me before who my first crush was, and generally I tend to give Peter K. as my answer, Johnny's best friend. I think the reason for that is my definition of crush as something innocent and fun, brief and inherently unrealistic. Peko was cute, fun and had a wicked slapshot. It was a thrill to think about him, run into him in the halls, and talk about him to Amanda at recess. I have had many of these brief nothing crushes in my time - 10th grade was Temmy, 13th was Salar, and this year was.. well, we'll leave that one there. Needless to say it is as torturous, thrilling, unrealistic and silly as a "crush" should be.

For some reason I was never able to think of Johnny as a "crush". It really feels to me almost dismissive of what I felt, which may not have been Love in capital letters, but came close I think. My crush on Peko was almost funny, and even then I could recognize it. It's like all the times this week I have unloaded to Claire about my current "crush" - I was on the border of hysterical laughter. I could never laugh about Johnny. How he made me feel was the most serious, the most real and true thing for me, the single most important thing in my life then. The next time I would feel that way wouldn't come for 8 years, when on a strange rainy night after work last year, I went out for my friend Morgan's goodbye party and fell instead into the most consuming relationship I've ever had. What I felt inside was so similar to how I had felt as a frizzy-haired awkward 12 year old, but the experience was completely different. There was no crying on the stairs this time around. After I realized that the conversation I thought had taken place over 20 minutes, half hour at the maximum, was really held over nearly three hours I had the funniest feeling of inevitability and calm. The first night I wasn't calm actually - I went home and woke Janet up to tell her that I met someone who would probably change my life. I called my mother the next morning to tell her the same thing, and to prepare her for the fact that he was a decade older than I was. But after that ridiculous night and day, I was so calm and just waited. It took three months before we finally committed, but we got there eventually. And for better or worse, it did change great parts of my life, and how I lived it. I think the reason I was so calm was that I was absolutely certain we were going to be together. It's funny because my good friend Stephanie had a crush on him at the time, but I was never worried, even though I have always thought her prettier, funnier and brighter than I, because it didn't change the certainty that I felt. For this reason, then, I never think of what happened with him as a "crush" either, though for Steph I know a crush was what it was. And actually, that night I lifted my eyes briefly and glanced over to the bar, where Steph was gazing back at me. I felt then, and I feel now, that she knew it too.

The other night I told the friend who inspired this introspection that a crush implies you would be with this person if you could; he countered that no, it implies you would *want* to be with this person if you could. He got it right I think. I don't think a crush is a proper crush unless an element of impossibility and unrequitability is there. That's what makes it fun, because you can enjoy it and delve completely into it without sacrificing any crucial part of yourself. And more importantly without tiring yourself out. Just take me as an example - if I took every "crush" I have to heart, and invested myself into it, well frankly I wouldn't get anything done. Not that I've been getting anything done this week... *sigh*. Anyways. I think that was my answer. Did it makes any sense?


1. One night in the 11th grade I was at my friend Shay's house having dinner and flipping through her high school yearbook (we had been friends our whole life, but she was at another high school). I think I knew but didn't fully register that Johnny had gone after middle school to Shay's high school. We were laughing at Shay's club pictures and stupid haircut, when I turned the page and saw Johnny's picture looking back at me under the heading "In Memorium". He had been killed at the end of the previous year by a drunk driver. I started crying right there, and poor Shay had no idea what was wrong with me. Heartbreak #2. It still pulls at my insides, even now, thinking about it.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

...the unholy sounds...

How to make love stay is what Tom Robbins was preoccupied with. I'm more concerned about making it go. By which I mean, what started out a simple casual stupid flirty crush has developed into something problematic and that definately has only me getting hurt in its future. And everything would be just fine if he would just not talk to me, and not smile at me, and not do that thing where he is actually listening to me? If he could just refrain from any of those things, then we would be golden. But one step out of line, and I'm entirely off-kilter and WHY is this an issue? I believe I warned at least two of my friends that the second I even thought about this as something even remotely possible, they should perform violence on me. What kind of friends are you?!

I'm done now. And am going upstairs to hang out with Alessia and Luca. Maybe that will knock some sense into me - kids tend to bring out the rationality like that.