...commodity culture...

I want to know about your birthdays. What you give people, DO you give people things, do you LIKE that you give people things, what would you do instead, how do you celebrate?

What is your best birthday memory?

What is your worst?

What does having a "birthday", a date of birth, mean to you? What do you think it might mean for others?

Post your comments please. If you have a more indepth answer, and you don't mind being quoted in an article, please email me your thoughts about birthdays and let me know whether I can quote you, and use your name, or not.

...william, it was really nothing...

Reminiscing in two minutes of perfect pop.

There are things that are so simple and mean so much - maybe it's someone wearing a shirt of brighter blue on dull Thursday. Or opening the pantry to find a hidden jar of hot chocolate powder. It's the details that make life soft and rich.

I'm watching Carolina Kostner skate in Olympic Primetime, and how beautiful she is gliding fast. She is tall and coltish, and lightning quick. She wants this Olympic so much that she is off-kilter and jittery, and her mistakes are starker for the tension. Can I ever relate. Today I wanted the boy in blue. Not even permanently, just a moment. Maybe a couple moments. Four days a week I just want to crack that smile. The rest?

I have it on my wall.

...isn't it magical...

Will the wonders NEVER cease?

I feel completely absurd today. I swear to god I woke up this morning a grown-up, but I've been giggling in the library for the last 10 minutes, so what do I know?

Really, the fact that Match Point was nominated for a best screenplay Oscar is astounding. It was more pretentious art crap from someone who lately seems to give out nothing but. Scarlett was shrill, that character Chloe should be shot, and Johnathan Rhys-Meyers was many many things, none of them exceptional. Except maybe in their awkwardness. Oh heavens, Woody Allen...

I almost feel like I'm in a Woody Allen film today. The funny crazy things that happen out of the blue. I saw someone this morning who looked an awful lot like someone I wanted to see today, and I remembered a couple days ago and this funny smile he had on his face. And I couldn't breathe for a second because really, he's the kind who doesn't smile too often and when he does, it's a million dollars. Someone should tell him that; that his smile is lovely. Clearly it won't be me, because really that would be something, wouldn't it?

I'm much too hyper to be on this computer. I need to go. Away.

(Earlier, I had meant to tell everyone that I had set up online banking AND an ING savings account, hence feeling like a grownup. It got overshadowed a little, but realize it for what it is: GROWN-UP!)

...a mango-shaped place...

Clearly it's no surprise to anyone that I am not as stable as I would like to pretend. Not eating (or, when doing so, badly eating), over-working and losing focus are hardly healthy reactions to emotional upheaval. Admittedly, I don't think anyone is hard-hearted enough not to be thrown when they hear "I don't love you, I never did" followed immediately by "I'm just not interested in your life outside of me". Especially on Valentine's Day. Even so. Skipping all those classes this week hardly helped the situation.

This weekend was an improvement - every day is. Every day that I manifest my... something... through the relatively harmless (except on the ears of my ever-patient neighbours) way of belting out to Kelly Clarkson in my killer boots, is an improvement. And if that day includes rampant and unashambed flirtation with someone that is so unbelievably wrong for me, even better. Icing-cake.

I passed on the first article for the writing gig. The topics were so incredibly asinine that I couldn't be bothered. I thought it was just me - that maybe in my charged state, any writing topic seems unfocused and irrelevent to me - but no, I had coffee with Janet the other night and she agreed that it was just frankly stupid. I have a neat spin on one of the next issues though, so that will fly. And another project in the works, with Iman and Roxie.

Incidently: I'm thrilled to have a friend named Roxie. Every time I see her, besides wanting to hug her adorableness, I want to grab her arm and start performing Chicago! in the middle of the store, pantyhose and heels, heavy make-up.

Tomorrow is Capocaccio with Amir, then making dinner with Rachel. Tuesday is seeing Match Point at the Varsity with Kate and Sara, then a book reception at Random House (Farnam are you going?), and a cocktail party. Wednesday is... I don't know yet, but I'm sure there's something. Sigh, there always is. Thursday is work, and Friday, and Saturday and Sunday - and then, suddenly my reading week is almost as if it never was. And we start again.

...indochine...

I have a secret (err...) crush on Nate Berkus. Effective, immediately.

...cartoon wars...

Someone asked me last night what I think about the cartoon fiasco going on throughout the Muslim world. I told him that despite the repeated clinging to free speech as a defence, there are some things that, in evoking such a strong emotive connection to individuals, are distasteful to mock. Religion is one of those things. I'm not saying that they had no right to print it, but only that it was obviously going to cause a reaction, and considering that I see no literary merit in the cartoon except the desire to cause a response, I can only say that in some manner at least, they had it coming. The thing that troubles me is that the media establishments were aware of this reaction - it seems that after the first round was published, it was repeatedly reprinted in other news sources to provoke reaction. Clearly that provocation worked. I would hope that the originators of the cartoon will apologize for the reception of their cartoon. If they truly did not mean to offend, they should at least apologize for the offense that was taken.

I read this morning that Iran suggested holding a Holocaust cartoon competition. That really incited mixed feelings. It's the same kind of "devil's advocate" response that is my usual answer to things - if freedom of speech really is their defense, let's push that limit. However, I am also planning to teach elementary school and one of the most important lessons there is "two wrongs don't make a right". Also "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all". Especially considering the hot water Iran is already in, maybe a little temperence would be beneficial.

...the end...

Telling the ex why being friends is not a good idea, my big line strong moment:

"You can rationalize this however you like, I don't really care. The point is you were never a committed actor in any of this. Or maybe that is exactly what you were; an actor".

...white-blue, pale-blue...

Can anyone tell me who the naked Santa is who moonlights at the Bloor Subway station? He concerns me. And by concerns I mean... frightens.

...the whole world wants what we're on...

I'm not sleeping, nearly at all these days. Midnight will come around, then one, then two and I'm still not winding down. Around three I will make myself lie in bed, all lights off, in the hope that the lack of stimulation might make something happen. I suppose at some point that must work because I will wake up in the morning at around 6. The first couple of days in this cycle pass uneventfully but on the third, inevitably, I crash. Like today when at around 3 in the afternoon, in the middle of a conversation with Javod, I knew I was about to fall asleep and quickly moved downstairs to the more comfortable section of Pratt Library, downstairs where the couches are. Claiming one to myself, I passed out. An hour and 45 minutes later I woke up with sleeplines from my scarf embedded in my face announcing my condition to all the world. Thankfully this only meant 3 people as the wireless networks in the library had gone down and everyone nearly had left.

The point is I'm not sleeping.

I am in a strange state of having too many things, none of them easy, on my mind. I don't know what to write for The Star. Actually that isn't entirely true. I don't know what I can write that is unique for The Star. The first topic was 'health benefits of volunteering' and it's left me in a brain freeze. I don't know what I can do with it that will be interesting or different. How many different ways can you say "volunteering is good for you", and why do you need half a dozen people to say it? If anyone has a neat angle I can take, let me know.

I'm on the point of maybe seeing someone; in the sense that I like him, and he held my hand, and asked what I'm doing Sunday night. Wondering if it's too soon. I mean, it isn't soon for me in the sense that I am more than ready to do this. I'm wondering if it's allowed, morally legitimate? Technically, Jody and I have been broken up a little over two weeks. I should be more sad, and I should be more hesitant in moving on. But it already feels like a lifetime! And we're still talking, friendly like - should I tell him I'm considering going out with someone? Tell me what to do!

The only thing I sort of have my head around is the research project for my feminist linguistics class, which is quickly becoming the favorite class I've had in university. I'm going to be comparing bathroom graffitti to see if I can find some neat language patterns between men and women. Hurray! I have my boy Cody scouting out boys bathroom stalls and transcribing those for me.