the answer to everything

...too much gaiety...

2008-06-29T23:50:00.002-04:00

I feel like I don't need this blog anymore. Whatever it was accomplishing in the last four years, it no longer seems to do - if my perpetual absence is any indication. This may be the permanent goodbye until September when I will be starting something new, and will be alone, and will need to bring words out of myself to keep from going crazy. I will let you know when. In a few days, maybe a week or two, I will take this one down.

...here I go...

2008-06-19T23:12:00.002-04:00

I wish I had adopted this as my motto earlier in my time with the store: "If you can smell them before you see them, they are probably suspicious".

True say.

...love on the highest level is no joke...

2008-06-17T10:01:00.004-04:00

I don't have any of the usual stomach knots for either the guy I am seeing or the one who is seeing me. I like them so much and sometimes my body remembers this too and does flips and thrills, but otherwise everything is calm. Imagine my surprise, then, when, not expecting to see him, and not realizing my senses were still capable of short-circuiting all at once, I had an embarrassingly unsettling reaction to someone else, someone who doesn't really see me at all. An awakening in 10 seconds.

Phil says: Each time you feel confident of the way to move ahead, someone or something casts doubt on your plans. Trust your good intuition

Intution: direct perception of truth, fact, etc. independent of any reasoning process; an immediate apprehension.

In other words, the kicked-in-the-gut sensation that hit me when the skies opened and the sun shone down (hello to melodrama, and the feeling of being 15 again), illuminating what my dreams and the absense of my own better judgment have been telling me for months: I wish I had been ten years older ten years ago, but still in this place.

...belatedly...

2008-06-10T23:59:00.003-04:00

It occurs to me that I never did talk about the very important somebody I was to meet last Monday. It was Baba Wawa, and she was not very nice. I could expand on this and fill up enough moments to equal a 13-hour day, but that was the most important thing to come out of those 13 hours - I met her, and she was not very nice.

...active weather report...

2008-06-09T01:46:00.002-04:00

They called a tornado watch for the GTA, including Vaughan and Richmond Hill (between the two of which I live, in the "village of Thornhill"), and now I cannot sleep. Where is a cellar when you need one? I have batteries but no bottled water. My parents are asleep upstairs and I am tempted to wake them and have them move to the basement to hole up behind cushions while I read aloud from David Copperfield to pass the time... is that what one does during a tornado?

I have to do laundry. Should one do laundry during active storms? Won't the water in the machine draw the lightning, or something? Like when they tell you not to swim during a storm? Oh god, and what if I need to shower?

I am a little drunk.

Possibly not the best thing to be during a tornado.

...things to think on...

2008-06-08T01:00:00.001-04:00

Note to self (for when, naturally, older and richer): buy all the New York Review of Books Classics.

...everything leads to here...

2008-06-05T22:06:00.003-04:00

I just made a devastating combination - nostalgia and my Visa card. I've spent years casually browsing used bookstores for Elizabeth Bernard's "Satin Slippers" series. It's a series of 12 books I read and adored in middle school and I harbour dreams of one day giving them to my budding ballerina daughter. This week I spent some time on abebooks and found them there, all 11 copies I needed (I found the first volume in a Toronto store not too long ago), whipped out my Visa and bought them then and there. abebooks is wonderful, it finds you all the books you need at whichever store has them, lets you order them from the site and behind the scenes arranges the orders with all of the independent booksellers involved. The first book arrived today and I read it in a thrilling hour over lunch in my kitchen. I can't wait for the rest of them.

...first full-dress encounter...

2008-06-01T11:32:00.003-04:00

This morning, my entire family sat around the kitchen table, heads crowded around my computer, waiting for my aunt and uncle on the other end to respond to my "ichat" request. Another minute, and their faces came on to the screen. We shouted and chatted, everyone trying to get their words in (the telephone is more civilised, in that respect). The thrilling novelty of speaking to people across the ocean and seeing their faces before you almost made us forget the pain of knowing they had to move back to Iran.

Pain and something else, some universal sense of failure that we all took in and made part of ourselves. Somehow we couldn't find a way to help them stay in this country, 25 years after they started the project. After learning the language, becoming citizens, making their lives here, raising their families here; in the end Canada didn't make it work for them, and they went home.

Home? This is home, isn't it? After a quarter century and two generations of family, this is home. How is this possible? Is it really so tenuous as all that?

If it is, then home is in the connections. Not where we end up but how we reach other. Early-morning crowded encounters and shouted catching-up. Getting through the inconsequential everyday, seven days of things that don't mean as much as they used to, until the next Sunday and seeing you again.

...tambores...

2008-05-31T22:11:00.004-04:00

I deleted the entire message I posted here earlier because I was wrong. I can't analyse or think about it anymore, but it is not what I thought it was. It's better.

...rampant idolatry...

2008-05-28T22:21:00.002-04:00

Tonight I went into work thinking I was only going to meet someone interesting and potentially fascinating, and at the very least Very Important. Cherie Blair, at her speaking event and book signing at our store, was sincere and warm and fun and intelligent, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I will not lie though - the best part of my evening happened completely incidentally.

After the speaking segment, I walked around the audience filling names onto post-its so she could personalize books to individuals. As I asked one gentleman for his name, I heard his voice above me answer "Phil Booth". My head snapped up and I found myself looking at a tall gentleman with Einstein-lite gray hair. He looked exactly as I thought he would. I said, "by any chance, you don't write the horoscopes for the Toronto Star do you?", to which he answered "yes I do". I laughed, jittered, and told him that I read him every day.

He wanted to know if he could ask Cherie Blair what time she was born - I told him of course, but suggested he let her know what his profession was first. Security was high, and there were some crazies around. He did, later, and she told him. Best moment ever.

Sometimes I wonder if celebrities hear these kinds of "I read you everyday" stories and think they are exagerrations. Phil Booth, if you should come upon this, this is no exaggeration. Every. Day. You all should know: how many times have I reported to you what is contained in my stars?

For Javod, because I promised him cryptic news: on Monday I am meeting someone else Very Important, at her hotel and then later at another speaking/signing event. I can't tell you yet who it is because it would give away the fun, but think evening interviews, great hair, a tell-all book, two very public feuds and 13 world leaders.

...i also live in this landscape...

2008-05-24T07:40:00.002-04:00

I want to get a tattoo but I don´t want to do it here - if I do, it will be just an example of "I went to Spain and got a drunken tattoo that one time". If (when) I get one, I want it to mean something, something that I love or believe, that I am going to wear for a lifetime.

I want to get "I also live in this landscape" down my back.

Spain is so much more a wonderful experience than I even thought it would be. I am doing everything I wouldn´t have done in Toronto, coming out of myself even as I am coming into my own. A city of strangers across the ocean, different language and different lifestyle. Means: even if they told me I was ridiculous, I couldn´t understand them.

So, a city of strangers in a different language. And yet, I still managed to meet the one fluent English-speaking Spaniard in this tourist-free port city. He grew up in Chicago so I suppose that almost makes him in American, but I think I can forgive that in the face of every other great thing.

Can I stay? Please, can I? I don´t want to go home tomorrow.

...more Toronto Star inanity...

2008-05-15T23:51:00.002-04:00

One of my favorite hobbies has become poking fun at the Toronto Star for its ridiculous comments and writing. Today's example, from the caption underneath a picture of Shania Twain and her husband, from whom she is separating: One of a few rare photos of Mutt Lange and Shania Twain in public together. The couple has split after 14 years of marriage and will now, presumably, be seen together less.

One can only presume that, yes, they will not now be photographed as often together.

...Liszt love...

2008-05-12T08:01:00.003-04:00

I love to watch David Alaverdian play the Campanella, because when he finishes he pumps his fist in a restrained but undeniable manner, to show that yes, he beat it. It is so difficult, and the process of learning it likely so tear-filled and frustrating, that the first thing to come out once those four long moments are over is sheer triumph.

Incidentally, that is also the moment which convinced me to stop trying to play it. Sometimes you have to resign yourself to the idea that something is completely beyond your ability and capability.

...transcendent execution...

2008-05-10T23:11:00.003-04:00

I celebrated my first week of freedom from school by buying multiple pairs of shoes, one of which I wore today with a halter dress that did not suit the weather. White peep-toe sandals with a cork wedge but not too high, adorable so much but no word of a lie I think I broke my toe. They are not particularly comfortable as it happens.

Other things I am doing this week:
- playing Liszt's Campanella in G-Sharp Minor
- reading "The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1" and "Mrs. Dalloway".
- Going to Spain!

...what the professionals use...

2008-05-01T23:34:00.002-04:00

Today was so many many hours of anxiety and restlessness, for no other reason than... well the reason isn't important, except to say that it would have sent Dorothy Parker into an apoplectic fit.

I won't betray myself to be even more the weak-kneed female and say that it was the 42 minutes that I spent in someone else's company that saved the entire day for me.

I played audience member at an insuffienctly-attended event, and spent the entire time alternating between thoughts of restlessly crawling out of my skin, and asking myself in all seriousness "what would Dorothy do?" - I don't know what exactly her reaction would be, what her attitude would be, in this situation, but I am fairly certain I missed the mark.

Unless she was more like the secret-Miss-Marion and not the surface-Miss-Marion.

Not having her advice at my disposal, I turn, as always, to Phil: Inner conflict is the greatest enemy of hopes, dreams and desires. Keep your intentions focused and keep your sights on the positive.

...everything else...

2008-04-29T00:59:00.002-04:00

I wrote the last exam of my undergraduate studies today, and oh boy is it ever nice to be done. I didn't even feel melancholy (although now I am starting to).

I went shopping after, naturally, then came home and slept for 7 hours. I spent what little was left of the evening (roughtly three hours) playing Scramble obsessively, continuing to read War and Peace, and noticing that my little indoor herb garden has started to germinate. In a week or two I will (if all continues to go well) have fresh basil, parsley and heirloom tomatoes in my kitchen.

Tomorrow I can start figuring out what to do with my days.

...organize this...

2008-04-26T06:44:00.005-04:00

I made a big mistake this morning - my usual morning plan involves waking, putting the coffee on, reading the news online, and then getting showered/dressed for the work day. Today, having run out of coffee yesterday, I decided to shower/dress first, then watch news quickly on my way out the door to grab coffee at Starbucks before rushing to make it to work at 8:30.

When I finally got around to watching the news just a little while ago, it was to find out that last night just after 11 the TTC workers rejected the tentative deal that had been worked out this week, and called a strike as of midnight. This left commuters with barely a half hour's notice that there would be no train service last night, and great difficulty finding contingency plans.

I have no contingency plan today - I am supposed to be at work in an hour and a half. I usually take the bus, and then the subway. I don't drive. A cab downtown from where I live in the suburbs would cost me 2/3 of what I would expect to get paid in a day. So, in about an hour, as soon as I think someone will have arrived at the store, I will be calling my boss to say I'm not coming in to work today. It is likely one of many such phone calls he will get today. So now I am showered, dressed, with nowhere to go, and a suprise day off, which will let me continue studying for my exam on Monday except that I have no coffee.

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

Out of last night's press release from the Amalgamated Transit Union Local 113: “We have assessed the situation and decided that we will not expose our members to the dangers of assaults from angry and irrational members of the public,” said Bob Kinnear, ATU Local 113 President.

Yes that makes a lot of sense - you want to protect your workers from public anger. This is why you called a strike to start 37 minutes after you left the vote - to stop the "irrational" public from being mad at you that you trapped them in the depths of the city, for some with no way to get home.

Kinnear's arrogance astounds me. To pull a stunt like this with no notice, no consideration for the people who rely on public transit in this massive city as their only means to get around. Who already have difficulty paying for the $109 monthly metropasses, or even the single $2.75 fare on a regular basis. I mean it, he has a lot of explaining to do and I hope someone takes him to task. David Miller that is you, and Adam Giambrone that is you.

I had a long debate with my mother about this on the weekend. She is a strong believer in unions and labour action, groups of happy, working, noble individuals banding together to fight "the man" and stand up for their rights. In theory, I am not against that. But in this day and age, the mechanisms are there for workers to be appropriately compensated within the confines of organization policy, industry convention or labour law. There is absolutely no nobility, no integrity, in what the transit unions did this past week and more.

Notice that I did not go so far as my mother and refer to "rights" - the TTC employees do not have a "right" to be paid as well as their counterparts in other cities. There is no logical connection between the two concepts save the arrogance of Toronto transit workers who play the Toronto card as if it means something, as if working in the "centre of the universe" itself entitles you to better conditions than everyone else.

Well I am entitled to some things too. So where the fuck is my union? Who is looking out for my rights? Where is the union for the low-wage retail employees who work on Bay Street but live in Thornhill? Who aren't salary and don't have "sick days" or other paid absences that could fill the void when these self-centred bullies decide to say "Ok. And, we're done". And proceed to shut down the entire city.

It's 7:15. I am going to go call my boss now, and then walk to the grocery store for coffee. And walk back. And keep checking the news to see if there is a chance this mess will be resolved by tomorrow, or if I need to pull some miraculous idea out of the air in order to get to my exam 9am Monday morning.

...the heart waits, and waits...

2008-04-25T11:17:00.002-04:00

But how does Phil know?!:

Your heart knows you're not entirely happy with a certain situation or with your declared plan for dealing with it. Coming events will vindicate your viewpoint. Try not to worry about something already on the mend.

...the heart asks pleasure first...

2008-04-24T22:23:00.002-04:00

I should be channeling Foucault tonight, instead I am channeling Michael Nyman, clumsily. So clumsily. And very slowly.

Maybe in a few weeks, maybe after the summer, I will sound like this.

...view book...

2008-04-20T12:47:00.002-04:00

I am waiting in limbo - the TTC is supposed to announce by 4pm whether they will be striking tomorrow. If they do, a mass of re-organization must be undertaken before the morning. The first part of the store redesign happens tomorrow, but if there is a strike I won't be there. I won't have any way to get downtown. There was a good hour today when I tried to figure out if there was a possibility, and there isn't really. And since I need to get paid to live, and thus need to work, a strike will involve me calling my boss to arrange to work out of another location in the interim. I hate the thought of it, but York Region transit isn't considering a strike, and so can still be used by carless me.

I'm grateful that I even have the option of working out of another store. It's a testament to how important it is to work for an organization or individual that will be flexible in difficult circumstances. There are a lot of people who will not have an option like that tomorrow, and who may be effectively stranded. Individuals who make money above a certain point, and will either be able to work from home tomorrow or to drive to work, aren't likely to be paying attention to these developments with more than a passing interest. For the rest of us, those of us who rely on public transit everyday and pay through the nose for it, it is critical to stay on top of this story.

Everyone involved with the transit union should be ashamed of themselves. There is a shadow of paralysis hanging over this city, all because an army of constantly complaining workers, who, for the most part, are lazy anyway, are threatening to pull the plug on an essential service for which we are already (in taxes, and out of our pockets) paying an exorbitant amount. We are fifty years and more past the need for labour unions which, nowadays, do nothing but ensure complacency, lack of accountability, and a false sense of entitlement. If the service provided by the TTC were as reliable and well-maintained as York Region's VIVA, or the transit staff as professional, I might have supported their call for comparable wages, and the claim to strike action. As it is, I'm sick of the entire organization.

...you touched me for only the second time...

2008-04-18T15:29:00.002-04:00

From Phil Booth, for today: There is something that you want and ultimately need to know. There is something else, though, of which you should remain in blissful ignorance. Progress will come, provided you focus carefully today but only on the topic that truly matters.

I'm crazy about someone, I think that matters. But does it *truly* matter? I don't suppose it does, at least insofar as there is very little I can do right now either about it, or to progress it. Blissful ignorance it is then.

What else matters, whose progress I can control? That I can focus my energy on today? A clothes-swap with the ladies, to launch summer right? A new pair of earrings? That certainly needs focus, I am learning to weld!

...faulty discourse...

2008-04-16T14:08:00.003-04:00

From a speech at the White House introducing the Pope's visit: "In a world where some see freedom as simply the right to do as they wish, we need your message that true liberty requires us to live our freedom not just for ourselves, but in a spirit of mutual support.''

How ironic that it should be George Bush to say this.

...if you lived here, you'd be home now...

2008-04-10T22:38:00.002-04:00

I arrived in Halifax a couple of hours ago and I wish I could tell you more about what I see, but so far all I see is foggy and dark. It's late, and I'm tired, and I'm also not feeling particularly warm to learning my surroundings. I have airplane ear and sinus issues, am coughing and still trying to finish a paper which will be submitted late. The way things are looking, the last two papers of my undergraduate career will both be submitted late. That, and my own persistant insecurities, are making me irritable.

I look out at the water outside my hotel window and wonder what I'm doing here. I hate Toronto, yet I belong there. Everyone here is a stranger. The nicest strangers, but I still can't get comfortable. Halifax is both smaller and infinately larger, and not at all what I am used to.

The flight was short, less than two hours, but I feel misled. This is very far away.

...lost in translation...

2008-04-07T20:39:00.002-04:00

I almost started this post in facebook status-speak: "[insert real name here] cannot believe how small the world just got" is what I wanted to say. Instead, I will say this: The world is smaller than we could ever think, it is astonishing. Astonishing!

Also, must everybody know my ex-boyfriend? Must they all know each other, and have six-degrees or less separations that connect his circle to mine? I'm kerflummuxed. Won't this ever end?

I wonder if he knows anybody in Halifax... it would be nice to date somebody and know that none of their friends has ever met my ex or any of his friends.

What a distracting day.

...overheard in starbucks (reprise)...

2008-04-04T17:02:00.004-04:00

The two men across from me are having a business meeting of sorts. They are clearly corporate (so far, I am guessing some kind of firm management) but as they sat down the conversation began with a discussion of the first man's "presidential rolex". Covered in triple diamonds on the numbers and inlaid within the solid gold band, it's worth "a couple of cars", somewhere around "150 or so". Thousand, that is.

Now the actual meeting has started - Mr. Presidential is introducing the other gentleman to a personnel management software. I can't hear the name but it sounds fascinating. Apparently, it can categorize people in a company according to their normative personalities and behaviours, whether they are fact-finders, follow-through types, or quick-starters; whether they are resisters, initiaters, patterners or accomodaters. I love this, a software that embeds a psychological index. How Foucauldian - must write John.

Dammit - my ride is here, I have to leave the presentation. Note to self: spend more useless hours in Starbucks just listening to people.

...guilty of dust...

2008-04-04T16:06:00.002-04:00

i) I think it's interesting that the top two referrers to my blog are google searches for pictures of cute kittens, and searches for the lyrics to "do you suppose i'd come running". These account for something like 4-5 visitors a day. To any of today's visitors: welcome!

ii) If Frank Bidart and I were ever to meet I would ask him to explain some things to me: mainly how to reconcile the two disparate thoughts in the poem I'm reading today like a horoscope, a harbinger of destiny. He wrote this the year I was born and that, I think, makes it even more significant.

iii) I have written more posts in the last 36 hours than I did during the entire month of March. I hope you have all picked up on (intuited?) the fact that I have three papers due in the next week, and am currently having difficulty writing any of them.

...rimbaud was in my dreams...

2008-04-04T09:22:00.002-04:00

The mind wanders, you feel a kiss

On your lips, quivering like a living thing. . .

I think that until this is over I will let my eyes do the talking, and only speak in cryptic references to French poetry. This is the seventeen-year-old in me who can't articulate anything like an adult, but wants to say everything. Everything!

...angels in america...

2008-04-02T11:04:00.000-04:00

Only in America would this happen.

...further...

2008-04-02T09:38:00.002-04:00

This has now been taken up in my dreams, four times.

...the original title of this post was too corny to be kept...

2008-04-02T00:05:00.003-04:00

I learn more everyday, things I can't reconcile with what I thought I knew. I want to tell you (not the collective "you", the blogging ether, but the individual "you" to whom this is not at all directed) about my new addiction, this new website, that I love and I think you would too.

She's right of course, I don't want to get in anybody's way. This is what I meant by "snowglobe", somewhere isolated where things could just play out if we wanted them to. The real world doesn't work that way though, and I can be disappointed about that while accepting the reality of it.

Tomorrow I will run the ravine behind my house with Robert Plant in my head. Tonight there are other things there.

...he kept pushing though...

2008-03-29T00:07:00.003-04:00

From an article about whether Hillary should withdraw from the race for the Democratic nomination, which looks increasingly against her.

"I hear it in the atmosphere," Clinton said of the increasingly loud chatter about whether she should drop out and let Democrats focus on the general election campaign.

Yes, exactly. Even the ether wants her to drop out. So why is she still hanging on?

...dense fog...

2008-03-26T13:09:00.002-04:00

Is anyone else but me seriously disturbed by the new Danino commercial that has a little girl smilingly announcing how she is looking forward to eating her "strawberry-flavoured DHA", as found in Danino Yogurt?

Children (or anyone else, for that matter) should not be enthusiastically clamouring for food additives, especially not over the foods themselves. It's profoundly creepy, no?

...baby stay fair...

2008-03-13T23:34:00.002-04:00

In the time I have been sitting here trying to write, Blogger has autosaved the draft six times. There is an intuitive awareness in every nerve ending on my body that knows exactly how I feel about this situation and exactly what I would want to do about it, but I am having so much trouble trying to articulate it.

There are so many directions I could go.
What I know is what my senses tell me.
I know when you're there.
I'm on when you're there.
I wish we knew each other in a vaccuum, or a snowglobe.
Do I have your attention?

How was I supposed to know she would see something in a *dream*, for christ's sake?

...problems of access...

2008-02-22T00:49:00.005-05:00

The problem with giving away your best stuff in interviews or public access sessions can be shown in the following example.

Anyone who listens to This American Life already heard about this headline on February 12, when they went behind-the-scenes at The Onion. I laughed at it thoroughly then, but experienced unsettling deja vu when I saw it on The Onion feed today. Once that passed, I started laughing again, only slightly less strenuously.

...my own brand of special...

2008-02-22T00:13:00.003-05:00

i) Before the in-store speaking/signing event with Phillipa Gregory (author of The Other Boleyn Girl, launching her 5-city North American book tour at our store) I am chatting with the ladies first in line. This leads to my going on and on about how I love this series of novels, and am so psyched to meet her tonight, and I wish I could be in line with them but I have to work, and she has such a great fun style, and gush gush gush. From behind me, a British voice says "Excuse me, would you be able to let us into the back office, there doesn't seem to be anyone around there". Three guesses who.

ii) The glass was full of water and perched precariously on the end of the ottoman. I could have moved it to the desk. I could have found a coaster, a counter, anywhere more appropriate than unbalanced on the edge of a soft piece of furniture. Every now and then I glanced at it wearily as I stumbled through this essay, but really couldn't be bothered to move it. I had a feeling though, that I should. The phone rang and I moved abruptly to answer it, knocking the glass over. Worth the $21.99 for the set, my sturdy Ikea glass didn't break when it hit the carpet, but the water fell onto my new purse, textbook, and presentation notes, soaking them thoroughly. I swore, then shrugged. It was nothing more than what I deserved.

...when love is first in flower...

2008-02-16T22:48:00.002-05:00

From Patricia Marx's "Him, Her, Him Again, the End of Him": "You know what I think it really was? He was a narcissist. I love narcissists - even more than they love themselves. You don't have to buoy them up. They are their own razzle-dazzle show and you are the blessed, favored with a front-row seat"

Hah.

She is so me. Look a little into my romantic history (include flings, married men, taken men, and Lee's Palace dance-floor one-shot make-outs) and what do you find? Narcissists. Even the current *crush* - though, lately, I hate that word - is one, I think. When I finish the book, I will tell you if the protagonist has a happy ending.

...more things to herald the end of the world...

2008-02-16T00:49:00.002-05:00

I almost feel like I could start a new blog devoted to broadcasting the grammatical errors of the writers of The Toronto Star...

From an article in today's online edition: "The Crown's star witness was a drug dealer who said that Devgan and her cooked up a scheme to write prescriptions for patients that she would enlist".

...in spite of its magnificence, I wouldn't stop there...

2008-02-15T18:28:00.003-05:00

This past weekend I discovered podcasting - for someone who claims fascination with new media culture, I'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes. So, I discovered podcasting, and then I discovered through the iTunes store the Great Speeches in History podcast, to which I promptly subscribed.

Then, Tuesday morning I found myself a corner in the back of the subway car, closed my eyes and began listening to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream". Though I have the written speech tacked up on the wall beside my desk, I hadn't ever heard the entire speech in one go, only excerpts and soundbites. By the time the last words were through, I was in tears and pulling into Rosedale station. That gave me scant minutes to recover before arriving at Bloor station on my way to work.

I thought about including some lines in this post, but without context and the passion of his voice, the words can lie flat alone. So instead, I recommend everyone take 15 minutes from their day to listen to it for themselves, courtesy of the American Rhetoric website.

...the apocalypse is nigh...

2008-02-10T00:24:00.000-05:00

The fact that Ann Coulter is endorsing Hilary Clinton is just one more reason not to support Clinton's winning the Democratic nomination. When the lunatic ice-queen of the uber-right thinks Hilary Clinton would better represent GOP values than Republican front-runner John McCain (arguably more middle-of-the-road than what we are used to seeing from the Republican Party), you know there is something to be concerned about.

Granted, Ann Coulter is crazy. She throws around anti-Semitic remarks, and hopes for the assassination by terrorists of candidates (like John Edwards) who she doesn't support. However, she still seems to see something of a kindred spirit in Hilary, and that's never good.

Don't you love the look in her eye when she talks about Hilary tearing up?

...so who will now candle me home...

2008-02-08T21:45:00.000-05:00

I think I'm growing up (slowly, surely), making better decisions for better reasons. That first time, going to the movies was a mistake. It let me sit in darkness while a story unfolded in front of my eyes - not the one on the screen, but the one *right* in front of my eyes, in that unseen space where my thoughts leave the relative safety of my head and are too visible to ignore.

Some time from now, it said, we might be together-forever. We might be closed to new things. Or we could be open to new things. We might be happy, but maybe we won't be. We might be just about to leave a play I dragged you out to when you wanted to watch football instead - we just might be a breath away from walking past an ex-lover who knew me better than you do, who knows I can't sit still. Maybe it won't be like that at all, and I will be calm with you and around you, and we really will be happy, maybe...

We should have just skipped the movie, that first time, and talked over coffee instead. Talked so I would focus on your words and not on my imagination, which leaps so fast from me. We got it right this second time, three months later. Hopefully right. Maybe right. At least, at the very least, this time we can try for right. At the very, very least.

...happy tax-rebate to me...

2008-02-04T00:40:00.000-05:00

What do you think? Is the new love of my life too "Elle Woods"? Or can I pull it off... even when I go to law school?

Because I am buying it. Either way.

...my eyes pass over...

2008-02-01T00:41:00.000-05:00

At the bottom of this article on Robert Deluce's Porter Airlines, the last little bit about congestion caught my eye. Because I am flying to Boston soon, and I can imagine that is a popular flight destination; and in all my time of twice-, thrice-yearly flying I have never given a thought to the fact that the sky, and popular flight destinations, can have traffic congestion. And jams? Can the sky have traffic jams?

In the city you can be literally bumper to bumper, and not fear too much, even if you lightly tap the person in front of you. You can't have that in the air, because if you lightly tap into another plane up there, it basically means instant death. So what if one of the 15 some-odd flights daily from Toronto to Boston is coming in around the same time as one of the 20 some-odd flights from New York to Boston? Not to mention the flights that come in from Chicago, Atlanta, Orlando, San Francisco, and Tuscon? And the flights from all of the other COUNTRIES?! Why are there not more airplane accidents? Shouldn't we have a plan in place for this kind of situation?

...learning is delightful and delicious...

2008-01-22T10:34:00.000-05:00

My ex-boyfriend has been thinking about me this week, in some way or another. I know this because Facebook tells me so. It tells me that he is casting the "movie of his life", finding the actors that might possibly portray those close to him in a future film adaption of his life story. Okay. And somehow I made it in there, as if I am still someone included in that category of characters who stand out in his life.

Interestingly, the actresses he has playing me are (in no order of importance): Lisa Edelstein, Danica McKellar, and Alyssa Milano. All women who are significantly hotter than me, although I feel only Alyssa Milano is unreachably so. Plus, both Lisa Edelstein and Danica McKellar were once on West Wing, and I think that is appropriate. So good picks, both.

I find it interesting that this even came up though, that he clearly has good-type thoughts where I am concerned. That isn't really a common theme for my past relationships. I think one of my exes adamently hates me, one doesn't care one way or the other, and the other probably thinks of me fondly when it occurs to him in between running literacy programs for kids and flying to countries whose names I can't pronounce.

...river to forge, serpent to slay...

2008-01-21T12:15:00.000-05:00

What my week has involved: crushcrushcrushcrushcrushcrush

Also, reading non-fiction, creating new blog, writing copy for new OneChild site, drinking excessive amounts of coffee and feeling guilty about it, and berating the non-Facebook users (read: new crush) who I have to get to know the old-fashioned way.

Also, making more jewelery. And bookmarks. Just copious amounts of being the coolest crafty person you know.

And, finally, realizing that I can't judge the teenage new employee too harshly because she writes how I wrote when I was 18. So it's okay if she makes me crazy, because in a couple of years she will be tolerable, and you can't rush evolution.

...she's archy, i'm mehitabel...

2008-01-16T16:55:00.000-05:00

I left the house this morning (read: afternoon) just as the post was arriving. Included with the bills and ads for Rogers Wireless products was a driving tour guide to Scenic Nova Scotia, addressed to my mother. I think she has decided that I am definately going to Dalhousie.

...election year!...

2008-01-06T21:40:00.000-05:00

My favourite thing so far in the new year: Election Matching Game!

...meet the press...

2007-12-30T21:27:00.000-05:00

I read the first few sentences of Tobi Cohen's article on the death of a Canadian soldier in Afghanistan two or three times before zeroing in on what bothered me so much - he flippantly refers to Kandahar Airfield as "relatively cushy".

I think it's disrespectful to the situation faced by our soldiers in Afghanistan to refer to the airbase that they temporarily call "home" as cushy, despite the improvements that have been made there in the last year and a half. It certainly seems inappropriately casual coming from a journalist. Definately another disappointing show from The Toronto Star, whose standards seem to fall increasingly with every year.

...two dixie chicks...

2007-12-28T07:11:00.000-05:00

Today is slow-thinking and fuzzy-mouth, the tangible evidence of a night of so much fun. Scrabble and a quiet bar, wine and a Maggie-girl, more wine then the bar is less quiet. I fall hard, but recover nicely.

...a dixie chick...

2007-12-26T23:20:00.001-05:00

This clearly falls into the category of things I should have known YESTERDAY!

I need to get out of this city. Waiting for 8 months to pass quickly.

...in watching "Sound of Music"...

2007-12-25T22:54:00.000-05:00

i) Rachel: She just said 12th governess in 7 years. Isn't the littlest one 5? How does that work?
Sanam: Why are you poking holes in the movie? Why do you have to ruin this for me?
Rachel: I'm just saying. 5 years old. Mother has been dead for 7 years.

ii) I miss Joe. That thought occured to me randomly tonight. A few years ago at the Apostles I was upset since we were missing Sound of Music on TV, and Joe mentioned he had never seen it, and we made plans to one day see it together. Obviously, we never got the chance.

...so many times the man...

2007-12-24T20:18:00.000-05:00

I don't care how ridiculous I am. Sometimes you just have to have fun with things and play with them and chat, and to get to know them. And for all that I got myself into the middle of a dynamic that was pretty much a... conflict of interest?... in every respect, I still had a great day.

...twice the man...

2007-12-21T10:32:00.000-05:00

Previous entry: scrapped in favour of telling my news to people in person if they ask.

...lesson learned...

2007-12-19T00:23:00.000-05:00

I'm a little worried about the ads on the sides of some webpages that have cartoon characters in them that talk and say odd things, like the blonde girl who says "hello?!" when you accidentally scroll over her, or the fish on the hook that screams "help me!" when you innocently pass the cursor over him on your way to the back button on the browser. What are they for? What is the point?

I started two new blogs yesterday because I increasingly hate this one. I have to find again my original thoughts, and a voice that speaks of more than everyday trivials and boys that have tunnel vision when they look at you. So new blogs, new templates, new focus, new voice. New me? No, old me. Back to me.

Addendum: I fully intend to keep this one, make no mistake. Because we DO need trivialities, and I DO think it necessary that you have a forum in which to learn that I spoke with my current crush for a full half hour this week and made a teensy weensy breakthrough. These are all important things. The new blogs will just discuss other important things, more specifically. Literature in one, social trends and media semiotics in the other. Sound good? Links to come, once there are actual entries written.

...too much tension breaks the bow...

2007-12-09T23:10:00.000-05:00

I'm ready to give notice now. In equal measures extremely frustrated and uncomfortable.

...it seemed like a good idea at the time...

2007-12-07T13:53:00.000-05:00

i) Adamently disparaging my worst prof to her colleagues.

ii) With a little sigh, and my hand on my VISA, walking into the One of A Kind Christmas Show

iii) Cutting my own hair over the bathroom sink after finishing the term and celebrating with wine. I'll let you visualise that one, since you will not be seeing me for the next month.

iv) Shortcutting across iced-over Queen's Park to get to my favorite coffee joint, in boots with skinny heels.

...tired of being sexy...

2007-12-04T20:17:00.000-05:00

I read a short story the summer before 12th grade called Two Words, by Isabel Allende, and it stayed with me for such a long time after. The past couple weeks I have been wanting to read it again with a physical intensity, and I've spent days thinking about buying "The Stories of Eva Luna" and immersing myself in the short tale of Belisa Crepusculario. I held off until today because I knew I needed to focus on this absurd Anthropology of Food exam. Finally this morning I stopped into the store and bought the book, took it back to campus with me and spent the 45 minutes immediately before my exam reading this gorgeous, powerful story again. I think it was the best thing I could have done before this test - it took my mind off this ridiculous test for this ridiculous class with this ridiculous prof and reminded me of important things, like love and words and storytelling and loneliness and powerful Colonels whose eyes soften at the sight of someone they didn't expect to see again...

Who needs to know how meals relate to the articulation of selves and cultures when there are stories like this in the world?

...my uterus is jumping...

2007-11-30T20:24:00.000-05:00

I want this child, or one remarkably like her in brilliance and absolute adorableness. But, I probably wouldn't grill her incessently until she memorized all this. I'd teach her maybe 15 countries and let my adoration be satisfied with that.

...are you KIDDING me?...

2007-11-29T11:15:00.000-05:00

"We've got a scouting report on each goaltender, video on each goaltender. It's optional for our players to look at it prior to the game, usually our defencemen don't. We do not tell the players where to shoot the puck." - Paul Maurice.

So Paul, if you don't tell the players where to shoot the puck, what exactly DO you do?

This, and the general weak incompetence of J. Ferguson, are largely the problems behind the Leafs horrible start to the year. Without a strong leadership behind you, coaching you, working with you, how are the players supposed to pull together and create a solid team?

...dribbles...

2007-11-29T00:07:00.001-05:00

I don't care if I work with books and I should know better than to judge books before having finished them, without giving them a chance. Sid Hite lost me about 5 pages into "I'm Exploding Now", his new book for teens. I'm sorry, I don't care if your character is smarter than the average 16-year-old, teenagers just don't talk like that. So I'm skipping this, and moving on to Saint Iggy by K.L. Going, who is just about one of my favorite writers for young adults, ever. (You may remember "Fat Kid Rules the World" being my staff pick at the store for over a year).

I won't even pretend that I am also spending time studying for finals. We all know it's not true.

...the face forgives the mirror...

2007-11-26T22:23:00.001-05:00

Tonight I'm negotiating studying with trying to find Christmas cheer, but it's hard when other things aren't cooperating. My hot chocolate is watery, and the should-be-snow is only icy rain; the blade on my skate snapped, and instead of shopping for fun One-of-a-Kind Show things, I spent almost $40 today on shipping costs (for three envelopes, to two Canadian cities); customers aren't happy but bitch about the dollar, and the store isn't playing Barenaked for the Holidays nearly enough. And speaking of barenaked holidays, this was SUPPOSED to be American Thanksgiving weekend with suitable American distractions.

I WANT CHRISTMAS CHEER!

...from "the buried life"...

2007-11-21T10:47:00.000-05:00

Only – but this is rare –
When a beloved hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another’s read clear,
When our world-deafened ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caressed –
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
A man becomes aware of his life’s flow,
And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.

~Matthew Arnold

...wonderful past all telling...

2007-11-18T23:35:00.000-05:00

I'm in awe of friends who have, in some case, 3088 pictures of themselves on Facebook. I have 27, and sometimes I think that is excessive. That either makes me remarkable supressive and controlling, or not a lot of fun. You decide.

...i was hoping winter was over...

2007-11-15T23:38:00.000-05:00

My Thursday lived experience in mediocrities:

i) Dan in Real Life: Fails to achieve the awkwardly hysterical dysfunctional-family/romantic mix-up that The Family Stone did effortlessly. Instead, it is tepid and sentimental, contrived, and devoid of sincerity except for a few altogether brief moments. Middle daughter Cara was perfectly cast and realized as the typically melodramatic, speaks-in-italics teenager on the brink of the "love of her life". "YOU ARE THE MURDERER OF LOVE" she screams at her father, weakly played by the usually stellar Steve Carrell.

ii) First date: smart + cute + friendly + gentlemanly + perfect on paper = less than the sum of his parts. Chemistry lacking, this feels familiar. Don't continue, nip-bud.

iii) The updated Canada's Food Guide: Information not well presented or explained, could be so much better. I'm not seeing that much difference from the old guide, frankly, other than an alteration of certain serving sizes and per-day quantities. Canadian policy makers need to really start thinking about how to make ideals like healthy eating habits sexy.

iv) General Hospital, and what was promised to be an exciting sweeps-worthy week of surprises and heartrending moments: it hasn't been.

...re: it's a date, not a life decision!...

2007-11-12T23:59:00.001-05:00

Why it's not a problem: It is not going to be the launch of an all-consuming affair, or a life-altering relationship. It is one date, one night, to help me remember that I am a woman first and a crazed student only distantly second.

...hard to swallow...

2007-10-31T22:29:00.000-04:00

From researching food knowledges and myths in everyday life, their histories, and the extent to which we internalize them in our relationships with food, I find this, "a modern bit of disinformation created by British propagandists during World War II":

"To help conceal the fact that their night fighter pilots were being guided by newly invented radar equipment, the British claimed they had improved their pilots' eyesight by having them eat raw carrots". - Leon Rappaport, How We Eat

!!!

Unbelievable. All this time, it was never true. You have all been lied to!

...I came to you with best intentions...

2007-10-29T10:38:00.000-04:00

She says: "Don't you think there's an age limit to finding your reflection in Dave Matthews lyrics? Somewhere near the end of high school maybe?"
I say: "No, no I don't. Clearly, I don't".

On that note:

Hey my love, you came to me like wine comes to this mouth
Grown tired of water all the time

So exciting but not even a little bit sensible, edgy and rich to get drunk on; nothing like the lake-smooth personality of the one I'm maybe-soon-to-be-seeing. Problem, problem, problem...

...he rode all unarmed and he rode all alone...

2007-10-26T11:15:00.001-04:00

I have a tendency to view myself through the eyes of other people and let their gaze define the edges of my self-esteem. I think I know what they see - not absolutely, and naturally some people are harder to read than others. But usually my sense is fairly accurate, and yesterday my sense was telling me that I was blurred to blend into a seen-everyday soon-forgotten landscape. Occasionally I jump loudly into the frame, a clashing protrusion from the scene that is obnoxious and spoils the effect. The challenge becomes, then, to clear the boundaries and define the lines in a subtle embossing that works with the context of the image and doesn't jar. Maybe I accomplished that. I got an interaction anyhow, unprompted, out of nowhere (though for all I know it was the kind of subtly sardonic I'm too naive to pick up on). Yesterday it told me "I am a person again! I exist!"

On the other side of my personality, the stronger, better part of me is shouting her response: "We were always a person! We are master of our own image, subject AND context of the work, and in this setting our gaze defines YOU!"

...someday this pain will be useful to you...

2007-10-26T01:33:00.000-04:00

Apparently, if in a dream you look in the mirror and see marks on your face (scrapes maybe, or a scar), it is a sign that you don't want the world to see your flaws and failures.

...love for speed...

2007-10-19T03:29:00.000-04:00

The thing about being so caught up in all you have to do that you can't stop your heart racing enough to fall asleep is that eventually, come around 3 or 4 in the morning, you will be so tired you could collapse; the kind of body exhaustion that doesn't care how many deadlines loom in the 5 days coming, it just needs sleep. The problem is that when you need to wake up at 6 to make an 8:30 meeting in the city, going to sleep a mere 2 hours before is dangerous because everyone knows you won't wake up with the alarm. So it comes to this - sheer exhaustion, and having to pull the all-nighter you didn't want to resort to until at least mid-November. At this point you can't study any longer, the mind has its own limits no matter how flexible those of the body, so you are left poring through the reviews on allmusic.com - their acerbic wit is usually good for a few laughs and you scroll expectantly down to Avril Lavigne, only to find her latest album was rated 4.5/5. You don't know if your failure to understand this is because of the sheer inanity of Avril Lavigne getting 4.5/5 on anything, or the lack of sleep, but don't have the mental power to figure it out now. Moving on.

...starting rotations...

2007-10-15T18:51:00.000-04:00

i) It happens every year, and is even understandable (not excusable, but understandable) - you get dozens of new bodies in a place and probably one of them is going to have sticky fingers. I never bitched about it before because I have never had any of my things walking away with those sticky fingers. But now I'm missing my cell phone (and before you say "retrace your steps", here are your steps - I had it at work, on my break, then at the end of my shift, no longer) and I feel like I've lost an appendage or something. I never realised how often I use my phone, and in how many capacities. Between work and the Globalist and school and friends and cabs and and and... and now I'm having none of that, but still hearing phantom ring tones, hip vibrations.

So to whichever of the new people whose name I'm not bothering to learn until January (if they even make it that long) who has my grubby Nokia, f*** you.

And if someone finds it in the back somewhere and it wasn't taken after all but only left behind in my ditzy haze, then I'll stop growling at work and maybe talk to some of the new people, and maybe even learn their names.

ii) It might be the middle of November before I find the time to write anything here again, I have so much going on right now - anyways I think at this point it's just habit, it's not like I'm saying anything particularly creative. But I thought I'd explain myself just in case the Brits start commenting about my week-long absences again.

iii) I think I've stressed and coffeed myself right into an ulcer. I can't be sure, but the big burning and nausea is maybe a hint.

...durable presentations...

2007-10-09T07:35:00.001-04:00

Re: Daniel Rubenson this morning on Breakfast Television talking about Mixed Member Proportional and the electoral referendum, a note to the produceers of BT: big mistake.

If the idea was to explain to the general population the ins and outs of the proposed system change - why it is a better and more representative electoral process, why it is not a significant extra cost to taxpayers, how the list seats will be distributed and why we should vote for it - Rubenson bungled the point at pretty much every turn.

The irony is that at the end of the piece they took a phone poll asking people whether or not they thought they were informed enough to vote on the referendum, and most people (almost 2:1) said no. Not surprising if you were counting on BT's MMP summary to inform you on the issue since I bet no one had any idea what Rubenson was saying! I can't believe this guy is a prof.

Long-short: vote for MMP tomorrow. Otherwise, don't talk to me.

...involuntary bodily noises in european languages...

2007-10-05T14:46:00.000-04:00

After this it's going to be difficult maintaining the Nigerian polio vaccination programme. As if trying to attain widespread eradication of polio in one of the last nations in which it's endemic wasn't already difficult enough.

I don't even want to discuss the fact that this new polio outbreak would not have occurred had the WHO been using the inactivated-injected vaccine that children here are vaccinated with, as opposed to an inhaled live-virus vaccine.

...the bird is on the wing...

2007-09-30T10:11:00.001-04:00

Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"

We sat on the patio of Hart House in the shade, myself and the two lovely ladies, talking of school and politics and, because he had spoken at Columbia the day before, Ahmadinejad, over lunch. This led to religion, unsurprisingly, and talking about the "ungodly" teenage rebels in Iran, and how we thought of course it was inevitable. You force your straight-edged constrained idea of religion on a population, indoctrinating them year after year in schools and in the media, of course they will rebel. Of course they will turn your god out (and not knowing another, go without).

From above, from the third floor windows shutters flung wide, the sounds of the Azan (the Muslim call to prayer), streamed out and found us, discussing as we were our own unholiness. Inviting us back, invoking a divine intervention, determined not to let us go quite yet, it settled over us like a benediction.

...teach us to care and not to care...

2007-09-28T00:16:00.000-04:00

i) I increasingly feel I'm infinitely too young to be constantly finding myself in T.S. Eliot. I've read Prufrock 4 or 5 times this week, and feel it, oh do I ever. Forcefully trying to convince myself to be a Hamlet, and not be idle, not to hesitate.

ii) Not particularly relevant to any of the millions of things in my mind right now, but I thought it important to mention that Allison Janney is one of the most brilliantly funny actresses. Possibly Ever.

iii) Remind me one of these to tell you why the feminists have it in for me, followed by how I show them wrong.

...the social harmony of democracy...

2007-09-23T22:34:00.000-04:00

On the resume of a senior university student applying for an editor position, verbatim: "Helped needy Children in my community".

On one of almost 8 pages of mostly irrelevant data I didn't really need to know. I can't really see how the fact that she danced in a culture festival when she was 12 helps me to judge whether she can write or edit or publish for a magazine. (But you know what can? The sentence I quoted above.)

Stamp: Reject.

...in order to save her, exploded her-!...

2007-09-21T23:33:00.000-04:00

Unbelievable that I who am usually so careful, so guarded left everything out there and didn't even realize. Not even clumsy hints, the whole thing, open open open. If I were so tempted, I would try and find out what you know, and if you told, and if I will be embarrassed, or not. I won't, but I will probably think about it for a few days, running the whole story through my mind faster than the beats below Fort Minor, shake my head to clear it and maybe laugh.

-Part of me hopes... I never see him again-

Unbelievable.

...paint me on the background...

2007-09-21T22:52:00.000-04:00

Friday night early evening seems a funny time to have a garage sale.

I bought Yevtushenko's poems for $1; vintage red earrings for $2. One for culture, the other for style. Now, instead of paper-writing I'm reading 60's era Russian poetry, and wishing the translation were better.

(Speaking of translation, Felstiner's of Paul Celan is a masterful capture. This was also read tonight.)

...do not expect too much of the end of the world...

2007-09-19T15:48:00.001-04:00

The abridged version of the long, paranoid, insecurity-rife post I wrote last night, and took down this morning because I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy, or not handling, is my horoscope from yesterday:

"As our planet sinks further into chaos, corporate marketing gurus press on with their drive to sell us their products. Reach now for what you really want, not what you think you are supposed to want."

...his sterility was infinite...

2007-09-17T22:35:00.000-04:00

I think of my blog titles in a similar way as I do horoscopes -- they are inevitably something that I come across that day or comes to mind, a quote or phrase, or song lyric; later, I will actually see counterpoint reflections of it in my life. So vague it could apply to anyone, I nevertheless take this as a sign my choosing of a particular phrase was not random but intentioned, somehow.

Incidentally, today's title is from the table of content's to Foucault's Pendulum which I am currently re-reading. And the fact that I dressed cute today (ostensibly for the Mulroney event) and he STILL didn't give me a second glance demonstrates that as far as my world goes today, his sterility really is infinite. Or something.

...she travelled in hyperreality...

2007-09-15T20:22:00.000-04:00

He said "Come, let's do this" and I thought it was marvellous. But tempered with humility and a healthy fear of failure, which made me ask if this was wise, if I could take this on. He says "full confidence" in the way that means it, but only after one conversation and I wonder if he maybe isn't wrong about me.

I'm the opposite of Eco's hero, the honest coward who dreams of being a hero.

...(don't) ride this way...

2007-09-12T22:13:00.000-04:00

In a city increasingly calling itself "Transit City", it's funny that the TTC seems determined to find inefficient and unpopular methods of raising the revenue it needs to maintain services. It relies time and again on fare increases to support programming: the TTC announced a new fare increase today (it's third in the same number of years) that will put the cost of a monthly Metropass at $109.00, and the bulk price of a ticket/token at $2.25. I hear a lot about TTC successes, how it is the most productive North American transit system, how it has the highest farebox recovery rate (over 80% of its programming is paid for by fare revenue), and how it is the least subsidized transit system in the country. These all sound great but mostly what it means is we pay more for our transit, and don't always get a whole heck of a lot back. Delays, overcrowded trains, dirty dirty dirty stations...

If we really are going to be a Transit City, I'd like to see revenue solutions that don't disadvantage those of us who use the system most. I'm a student, and commute into Toronto everyday for school or work. I don't like driving, and certainly want to avoid it as much as possible. For the most part, it's more convenient for me to take the TTC everyday and despite the occasional delays, it usually works out quite well. However, a $9.25 increase on my monthly pass is not insignificant, and is probably going to deter me from continuing to buy a Metropass.

We should be taking advantage of creative revenue solutions that really promote public transit as a way of life and not simply an alternative means of transportation. If we're committed to "clean air" policies, as the ads in the subway tell me daily, we need to do more to show it: increase motor fuel taxes and direct that money to the TTC; charge access fees to offices and shopping centres on and around TTC stations; make new residential developments pay a one-time fee to the TTC to offset maintenance costs over the coming years resulting from an increased ridership from their building (San Francisco's transit system has used this method since 2002, charging new developments on transit areas $5.00 per gross square foot and has raised over $100 million in revenue through this program). Most importantly, stop antagonizing those of use who use the system regularly and are already stretched for cash by making us pay more to use the service; driving away (no pun intended) your regular ridership is hardly a good economic strategy.

The second-largest Canadian transit system is in Montreal. They also charge $2.75 for a single cash far, but the discounts for increased use are much steeper than in Toronto. The weekly pass is $19.00, and the monthly pass an unbelievable $65 ($35 for students). There is no university Metropass in Toronto, although high school students can get a monthly pass for $83. I repeat, NO university student discount from the TTC! I have a close friend who is very smart and very dedicated and studies at York University. She works nearly full time while in school to pay for school, and occasionally doesn't make it to class because she can't scrounge up subway fare. She can't buy a Metropass because a one-time first-of-the-month payment of a hundred bucks is more than she can manage. Transit in Toronto really needs to step up to the plate, this is just too much.

...september, briefly...

2007-09-12T12:41:00.000-04:00

i) It's the third day of classes and I've already succumbed to buying Chinese food off the back of a truck. This doesn't bode well for the rest of the year.

ii) I dropped a class on Monday to escape from a prof I hate, and she showed up at my class today as the replacement for the other prof, who is taking a leave. Will nothing go my way?

iii) Differences between me and Maggie: she likes a boy and talks about music, Russian literature, theatre and the history of punk; I like a boy and talk about religious tensions, provincial politics, and market demographics. She gets lots of sex; I get debate and antagonism. Sometimes I get a smile, sometimes not even that.

iv) It's ten to 1, I was going to spend the day studying on campus, and I promised to meet someone at 2 in order to do so. But I'm suddenly worried about all the readings and papers I have, so I think I am going to go home and hyperventilate instead.

...my big decision...

2007-09-06T09:10:00.000-04:00

Despite my internal promise to, for the most part, keep this blog from returning to the political, there is a current issue I want to address. I had a visit from Peter Shurman last night, he is campaigning in Thornhill for the Ontario PC. For a small-ish quaint village in Vaughan, Thornhill is actually a rather visible and important riding; and having Peter Shurman, a visible media personality, as the PC candidate seems fairly apt.

As many of you know, one of the big ticket issues on the Ontario PC platform under John Tory is the funding of faith-based schools. Tory intends to divert $500 million from the public education system to the funding of private religious schools. It's expected that in the culturally diverse Thornhill community, this issue and the profile strength of Peter Shurman will take this recently Liberal riding back to the PC.

When his campaign team were at my house last night, I was asked if I or any in my home would be voting PC in the next election, to which I answered a hesitant "Noooo...". "Oh, are you still deciding?", Shurman asked. To which I responded that no, we were fairly certain and no, we were absolutely not PC. Which isn't entirely true; my family has been traditionally evenly divided between Liberal and PC. However in this provincial election, we have a tricky situation ahead of us. I definately was not intending to vote for Mario Racco, he having been fairly useless as far as representatives go. But neither am I going to vote for Shurman. The faith-based schools issue is what the Ontario PC expects will win them the Thornhill riding, which has more private religious schools than any other in the province. However, it is exactly this issue that lost the PC the support of any in my family, including my previously near-always PC-voting father. Frankly, if we wanted equal support for religious schools in a public education system, we would have stayed in Iran. Diverting money from an already strapped Ontario public school system to fund religious schools, who for the most part deliberately choose to remove themselves from the standard education system, is not something we will support. Not to mention the fact that one of the conditions for funding is adherence to the problematic Ontario curriculum guidelines and standardized testing, and we all know how I feel about that.

Let me know your thoughts.

...dreaming in polish/my shoulder hurts...

2007-09-01T23:05:00.000-04:00

Is there anything as lovely as Chopin's "Lento in C-Sharp Minor"?

Maybe a Friday night with a pseudo-relationship.

Maybe... playing Chopin to distract from a Friday night with a pseudo-relationship.

Maybe... playing to forget about the ex-lover who was at my bar, that same Friday night, at the table next to ours. Me and my past relationship/me and my not-quite-yet.

...rejoice, for this is the best of all possible worlds...

2007-08-20T00:33:00.000-04:00

Repeat after me:

My LSAT instructor is a pot-head.
My LSAT instructor is a pot-head.
My LSAT instructor is a pot-head.

No, no, I'm not exaggerating. He really is. I paid nearly a thousand dollars to be taught by a joke-repeating slow-thinking hemp freak who can't deduce from given conditions.

Our exchange:
He: What do we know for sure? What has to be here?
Me: J, T and U
He: No, not U. We don't know that yet.
Me: Yes we do, it's in the conditions. It's an extension of the conditions.
He: We shouldn't put it firmly in the set-up. Some people might not be able to make that leap.
Me: It's not a leap. It's, like, a step. The next step.
He: Be that as it may, let's ignore it for now.

Anyway. Long-short, I played hooky in the afternoon, skipped out after lunch to go read in Queen's Park. Kit Pearson has a new novel, "A Perfect Gentle Knight". It's gorgeous, luminous. I sat under the trees, with the bees and the sparrows, and read, and cried my eyes out. Tomorrow I will study my way, after a swim and in my yard. In the sunshine, on my own. Not in a stuffy classroom in a dark building on the top floor, in a room with 30 others spending 3 hours on every 4 questions.

Rant over, you may return to your regular activities.

...verdi's consumptive sopranos...

2007-08-06T21:44:00.001-04:00

I had always wondered by the force of which power Paul Ruditis' "The Rainbow Party" made it into the store. I had been proud for so long - Barnes and Noble caved; Borders caved; and we, we were the last holdout, the last brave bookstore to withstand the pressure of teenage titillation. Until that fateful November day when the book showed up on our carts, a year after its original debut. I chalked it up to the fate of all bookstores to occasionally traffic in dribble and thought nothing more of it, relegating it to the depths of overstock to be forgotten.

Until today that is, when I stumbled upon the reason for the books appearance in the children's section. A purchase requisition! Someone actually requested this title! Grrrr. I have my thoughts, oh do I ever have my thoughts.

...a variety of stimulants...

2007-07-24T08:11:00.000-04:00

There aren't any words left, just disconnected sounds and the occasional grunt. I've lost logic, cohesion, communicative abilities. I just make noise.

It was so much easier to write this time last year when I was in love, so much more in love than I've ever been. (For those in our studio audience, I'll remind you that it did not materialize. This was an absent unrequited love). But at least I was functioning, present.

I want escape plans.

...epilogues are tacky...

2007-07-21T22:50:00.000-04:00

The success equation:

10,000 people + no riot = a job well done. It was pure adrenaline and (dare I say) terror? But so. Much. Fun.

(P.S. I finished the book, let's discuss yes?)

...earth to reaction boy (come in)...

2007-07-20T01:00:00.000-04:00

Oh. My.

I cannot stress this enough - when it comes to events, and decorations, and anything on a spectacular scale, there is no store on earth that can touch us. I have never spent so much time and effort on anything like I have on the launch party of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Truly, honestly, if you are in Toronto and a friend of mine (even though because of this launch I haven't seen most of my friends in weeks), please please come check it out. Wander into the store, past Gringott's and browse the shops of Diagon Alley on the Mezzanine; drop down to Hogwarts and go through the Forbidden Forest to get to the children's books; or walk out onto street level through Platform 9 3/4 where the Hogwarts Express takes you to all the amazing events and activities (including my events - the kids crafts, that are happening on the Knight Bus!). Enter a raffle to win the beautiful house banners that my fantastic friend Sara made from scratch on gorgeous thick fabric.

Most importantly, stay until 12:01 and buy your book! I will stay until the bitter end, and read the first chapter before falling into a fitful sleep, and only after working all day Saturday will I get to read the book at leisure and completely. This is the last book, the end of a children's literary era, and it could only ever be commemorated like this, on this scale.

Every single member of this team gave great vision and worked their hearts out (mostly); and myself and Ash (coffee-jitters, blurry gaze) filled in the spaces working in our apartments and garages, on our breaks and days off, and everything came together, and we pulled off something you won't believe until you see it. I dare you not to be blown away. For the Harry Potter fans, it's a no-brainer. But even for the rest of you - you will be awed despite yourselves.

Unless you have ice-water and absolutely cynacism running through your veins.

Friday night, 8pm, Bay and Bloor, you can't miss it. I will see you all there.

...a dark lit place (or your place or my place)...

2007-07-10T23:13:00.000-04:00

To the girl who said "I love this song more than sex": you're not having the right kind of sex.

...far from all of the things that we are...

2007-07-09T23:33:00.000-04:00

Marina Nemat's "Prisoner of Tehran" reads like what it must have been for her, a complete catharsis. I can't imagine the process she went through when she was working on the book, the writing and rewriting, retelling and reliving. Last week at the store she gave a stunning recollection of some of her experiences, with an inner strength that was calm and graceful. My own inner strength, it appears, has room for improvement. Later that night, in the back office, in a couple of sentences of broken Farsi mixed with English I told her my not-mine-to-tell which, though cathartic, made me cry in a way I didn't expect. Add an incredible warmth to Ms. Nemat's strength and eloquence, she was so lovely.

...i feel a little bit...

2007-07-07T23:56:00.000-04:00

My archives are broken, I hope you aren't feeling nostalgic.

This week's thoughts in brief:
i) Project Skinny is not moving along as quickly as i would like; my excuse (Project Harry) isn't either.
ii) All the couples around me are splitting up. Is it something in the water?
iii) I'm afraid to set a date for birthday celebrations. It might be my I-used-to-be-fat complex, but I'm worried no one would show up.
iv) Watching Star Trek Voyager on my laptop, in bed, with tea, pure nerdy night-off mellow.

...bargain bin clint eastwood (all in white)...

2007-07-04T00:00:00.000-04:00

In my defense, and I hope you believe me (which, judging from the fact that you are not reading this, nor are you likely to, means you probably won't): I'm actually smart and confident and capable and funny, and I can throw moxy/be sexy when I feel it, and come in sly with sarcasm and brass to make you feel it. So that image you have? Too giggly by half, intermittently ditzy, and loud high-pitch, in that way of all the girls from high school I ever hated, ever? Please don't hold it against me, nerves nerves nerves. And the professional sounding heels click-clickety-clicking away were about overcompensation, and everything else is too.

What a disaster.

On the other line, someone is asking me for relationship advice. Hah.

...how many Ativans make a good day?...

2007-06-27T22:44:00.000-04:00

Lights and sounds make me nervous. Excitement in general, things on the epic scale, noises, parties, riots, etc. All things that induce panic.

Unless I know everything, all the ins and outs. All the schedules and the details and the planning and the elements, and everything about everything, ever. Unless I know all that, I am nervous. And when it comes down to it, I'm just a foot soldier in ... the army; and I don't know everything. So the amended list? Bouncy castles, double decker buses, performance stage? Ner-vous.

...juice-boxes, pro-shop sunblock, bouncy castles in the sky?...

2007-06-25T10:02:00.001-04:00

Peterborough took us out in the final, 8-7 last inning. I love the girl dearly, but knew as soon as she took the plate that it was over (third out, last at bat, there was just no way). I would be more upset if not for the fact that it really was a great day of baseball. Our games were tight, and where we won them (all but the last) we won them with some really amazing plays. See? Look, I'm more mature already.

Earlier I watched the trailer to the new Harry Potter movie and almost peed myself in excitement. Since my birthday falls the day after the release, clearly seeing this movie will constitute my birthday and clearly everyone is invited! This will inspire and thrill us to a maximum point before the last book's release on the Saturday. The copious amount of drinking that will follow will do that too.

I'm not going to discuss my sheer panic at the thought that we might not finish all our plans in time for the book launch, because that is my own special brand of anxiety and you don't need to hear it. I wish we had more time, more cohesion, and a leader who had more... leadership, I suppose, but those are all empty wishes. The idea is to get it done and get it great despite everything else.

In other news, a little bit of studied observation: I know how disinterested he is because we are very, very similar. I have watched him, so I know this to be true - the same cues, the same non-verbal instantaneous shift to a little bit colder mood that flows off in waves as soon as you even come close to the line. Clearly, a no-touching zone. So, fine. We'll all be islands.

...the facts of life...

2007-06-18T22:21:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, my mother burned the house down. Now, my father flooded it. I want to say "Guys! That's enough! No more outdoing each other with property damage. Pretty sure you're even".

Sometimes the people at work wonder why I'm confused. A little bit spacey some days, a little distracted. Genetics is making a really strong case for itself.

...the fog-lickers...

2007-06-17T21:10:00.000-04:00

We're the mid-June motley crew, the daughters of business-networking golf-clubbing fathers. The girls in tank tops and bermuda shorts, sometimes flip-flops, sometimes sneakers (not real sneakers, fashion sneakers; sometimes Lacoste, sometimes not). We may not know how to play golf, but still came to the club this afternoon, and anyways we worked on our swings, and anyways it was Daddy's day.

I took one bucket to the range, and learned the basics. I like to think I wasn't half bad, though my follow-through needs work. A few times, hit just short of 100.

I also like to think I'll do this again sooner (a less sporadic golfer), and not wait until next Father's Day.

...can you guess how many?...

2007-06-14T07:19:00.000-04:00

I noticed the problem as soon as I took the skirt out of the dryer. Or rather, noticed that there was a problem. It took me a minute to recognize exactly what it was. The skirt was definately shorter today than it was when I threw it in the laundry the night before. It had definately shrunk.

Now.

I'd thrown this particular skirt into the washer, followed by the dryer, many times before with no serious problems. Last night, for some reason, I decided to read the washing instructions which specifically said "hang to dry". I thought about it, I really did. But realized that if I hung it to dry, it wouldn't be dry by the time I had to leave for work in the morning, and my other work-skirt is at the dry cleaner, and it's too hot to wear pants, besides who wants to wear sloppy boring pants to work, downtown, on an event day? (Long/short: no hang dry). Anyways like I said, I had thrown it into the dryer before, in ignorance, with no adverse consequences.

I have a picture in my mind this morning of the God of Laundry watching over me, nodding his head, saying "I did tell you. You disobeyed my specific instructions. I was quite clear". "But sirrrrrr...". "Thou talketh back to ME? Ignorance is NOT bliss".

Thankfully.

I am both anal-retentive and obsessively paranoid about being late for work, and still have a full four hours before I'm due for my shift. Plenty of time to run into the mall and buy a quick work-outfit replacement. Tomorrow is payday after all, I think I can push into my VISA bill just a little bit this morning, for a good cause.

...titles from jeopardy categories...

2007-06-12T19:31:00.000-04:00

I'm anxious and jittery, and incredibly restless. I can't think in solid thoughts or write in solid blocks. Hence, numerals:

i) Sometimes it's great to go out with just my Persian friends. They don't think it's funny that Beyonce's "Ring the Alarm" makes me nervous. They have residual revolutionary war oddities themselves. Between us, we fear loud noises, air sirens, cramped quarters, yet feel more comfortable in basements. Between us, we know the lengths our parents went for us. Not just the larger sacrifices, but the everyday compromises. Like, my mother's insistence that during nighttime bombings, my brother and I not be awakened to make the run to the shelter; that we should have uninterrupted sleep when possible, the calmest childhood we could; that if something were to happen to one of us, it would happen to us all, together.

ii) Apartment hunting. Tips? Roommate offers?

iii) Saturday's Shopping List (barring further unforseen problems with pay):
- Package of paper scraps
- Printed rayon paper
- Ped-style socks, lacy and pretty - does anyone know where to buy them?
- Beads
- Chains, fastenings, pins, and clasps for jewellery; also, needlenose pliers, and yarn

...the week in notes...

2007-06-09T00:19:00.000-04:00

i) A Girl and A Boy (kind-hearted, enthusiastic) decided to take plates of extra food out to the homeless in front so that the leftovers, for once, would not spoil and be thrown out. But in the aftermath of a downpour, though it had stopped raining by now, no homeless were found.

ii) Have progressed to solving three sudoku puzzles in 11 subway stops. Clearly, I am the champion of the world.

iii) Book Expo! The booklovers paradise (minus the crowds) involves signings and authors and freebies. (Oh my).

iv) The only reason that I haven't vocalised disappointment with the fact that fun event planning turned into a one woman show is because with all the other things going on, I don't have the time to put in any extra-curricular work myself, so if someone wants to, at least nominally, do so, it's no skin off my back. But. I am disappointed, especially since she's driven at least one person off the planning committee.

v) I want to travel! I want to do something different! I am bored and frustrated!